


afterlife

by zouee



Series: ghost [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Near Death Experiences, Sequel, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 08:22:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3843886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zouee/pseuds/zouee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“zayn, i want to be a ghost.”</p><p>  —</p><p>it’s a year later and the patience of transitioning is wearing thin on zayn. meanwhile, louis takes a dangerous infatuation with the idea of becoming dead. little does zayn know, his human-self is waiting just around the corner, which may or may not solely be a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> this is the second part of ghost. you will have to read that before you read this, unless you’d prefer to be highly confused & frowning the whole time. for your own enjoyment, though, (& to prevent you from creating creases in that pretty forehead of yours) i’d highly recommend that you don’t read this without reading the prequel. 
> 
> okay! so, here we are again. i’d like to say thank you for everyone who has left kind words on ghost, it means so, so much to me to know that you liked it! also, a special tribute to zayn malik. you did what’s best for you & i’m glad you’ve made the decision to be happy. finally, a special thank you to all of you who prompted a sequel— without the encouragement i don’t think i even would’ve considered writing more on this! my only wish is for you to like it ☺ 
> 
> small disclaimer; nothing that is mentioned of doncaster, england is true. 
> 
> hope you enjoy it! xo

*

 

_“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”_

  
― Mark Twain

 

*

Wind whips passed his skin, his hair that’s now growing and falling close to his shoulders flows back as he flies through the clouds fast, breaking the air. Louis’ pressed close to his chest, holding onto Zayn’s arms as they wrap tightly around his chest.

They’ve been flying almost every day for a year now, and Louis seems to be exhilarated from it regardless of how many times they’ve been up in the air. One weekend was spent entirely on flying, since Louis had insisted they do nothing else. Zayn got so exhausted that he slept for two days straight afterwards.

The thing is, Zayn’s thrilled that Louis still finds excitement in Zayn’s form, he is. But Zayn had thought that eleven months would be a long enough time to turn back into a human. He has his doubts that maybe it’ll never happen—maybe being halfway there is all he’ll ever reach. He’d be a little bit more anxious about it if Nick wasn’t in the same position, though.

Zayn and Louis land on the front lawn outside Nick and Harry’s house softly, setting Louis’ feet down on the grass delicately before detaching himself from Louis’ body. Louis immediately runs up to the front door and rings their doorbell—the four of them all recently agreed to stop Zayn and Nick from flying into each other’s houses uninvited ever since Nick had accidentally flown in on Louis and Zayn naked.

Zayn still flushes at the memory.

Harry answers the door with a wide grin and brings Louis into a hug, “Hi!”

“Hey, Harold.” Louis says. His eyes then close slowly and his entire body shivers. When he opens his eyes again he nods in the direction of where Nick is, from where he had touched Louis’ cheek, “Hey, Nick.”

Zayn flies passed and rests his hand lightly on the front of Harry’s jeans. Harry jumps away from it and immediately holds his crutch, yelping. Honestly, the amount of times Zayn’s pulled that trick you’d think he’d learn from it.

“ _Zayn_ ,” He whines, “I don’t think you understand how _freezing_ that is.”

Louis lets out a laugh and walks further inside the house. It hasn’t changed much since the first time Zayn visited. Sometimes he and Nick laugh about the glass ceiling in Harry’s bedroom and the way they had to sit on the rooftop and involuntarily listen to things they could’ve gone a lifetime without hearing. Though, to be honest, that _does_ seem like a lifetime ago, according to Zayn.

The four of them make tea and sit outside on the decking around the small table. Initially, it was weird with Louis only seeing Zayn and Harry, and Harry only seeing Nick and Louis, but somehow, throughout the months, they’ve managed to make it work. 

“So,” Zayn begins, mindlessly tracing the handle of the small mug, “It’s almost been a year.”

“Yeah.” Nick replies shortly, knowing what Zayn’s insinuating.

He understands that Nick’s as fed up with it as Zayn is. He sees it whenever Harry invites some of his work friends over and Nick’s unable to introduce himself, he sees it when Harry’s family stays for the week and Harry’s not even able to mention Nick at all, and he sees it in Nick’s eyes whenever Zayn mentions the prolonged time it’s taken the both of them.

“Why are we still dead?” Zayn mumbles, keeping his gaze down on the warm tea that’s swirling slowly.

Nick sighs; he hates the term ‘ _dead_ ’. “I don’t know.”

Zayn looks over to Louis, deep in conversation with Harry about something to do with a television show they’re both guiltily into. The fact that he’s still a ghost wouldn’t affect him as much if it weren’t for the slight aspect of not ageing. One of his biggest fears is to never leave this inhuman body and watch on as Louis grows old, then eventually dies.

The thought alone sends unwelcome shivers down his spine.

“Do you remember Mary?” Nick asks him, voice low. Zayn does, he remembers meeting Nick’s small group of ghost friends, Mary being one of the oldest ghosts. He nods in reply. Nick looks at him, “She turned human yesterday.”

Zayn’s mouth gapes open at that. “ _Really_?” He asks in disbelief. Nick nods, but there’s a lot less enthusiasm in his expression than what Zayn’s suddenly showing. He sits up in his chair, leaning over the table closer to Nick like they’re about to diffuse a plan. “Ask her what she did, maybe? Like, what if there’s one final thing we have to do in order for it to work faster, or, like, let us form into a human completely?”

Nick’s eyes suddenly show sadness, blinking downwards, avoiding Zayn’s gaze. “I can’t.”

Zayn frowns, confused. He pauses for a bit, and then asks, “Why’s that?”

He watches Nick’s Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallows deeply. He meets Zayn’s gaze over the table and shrugs.

“She can’t see me anymore.”

*

Back at the apartment, Zayn’s cooking dinner—it pays to watch people for so many years; the art of observation is a great source for learning—and Louis’ on the phone to Niall. He’s walking around the living room, stopping every once in a while to listen closely to what Niall has to say.

Niall was the third person to be informed about Zayn. Of course, Niall was a little startled, then followed the same reactions as Eleanor, asking Louis to make sure he was real, and to make sure Louis wasn’t becoming insane. Then, after an explanation and a sign of proof, Niall was nothing but proud, hugging Louis for what seemed like an eternity, mumbling things in Louis’ ear that were along the lines of “you deserve this”, “it’s about time” and “if he fucks you over I’ll make sure he dies a second time”, which—what triggered a laugh from Louis—made Zayn feel a little endangered.

They haven’t seen Niall since the Christmas holidays, staying for the week so he could celebrate Louis’ birthday, too. And it’s safe to say Louis’ missing him a little more than he admits.

“I don’t know, man.” Louis says into the phone, standing in the middle of the room now, one hand on his hip. “I feel like all that’d do for me is bring back bad memories, y’know?”

Zayn stops cooking at that, looking up from the chopping board to frown at Louis.

“Well, yeah, that is a fair point, actually.” Louis continues, nodding along. “Alright, mate, how ‘bout I talk to Zayn first and I’ll call you back?” He looks towards Zayn and holds his gaze. “Okay, talk soon, bye.”

He hangs up the phone and walks over to the kitchen stools, sitting down on one. Zayn doesn’t say anything, just waits for Louis to mention the conversation. He lets out a small sigh.

When Zayn starts to chop again, Louis decides to speak up.

“Niall wants me to visit him in Doncaster.”

Zayn puts the knife down and blinks, “He invited you back to your hometown?”

He lets out a breath, “Yeah.”

“Well… do you _want_ to go?”

“I—I think so?” Louis says, frowning at himself slightly, considering. “Like, obviously it’d be a bit hard, you know, going back to where I hated life most,” He laughs bitterly, “but I don’t think it’d be too bad. I’ve got you now, don’t I? Like, I’m happy.” He locks eyes with Zayn and gives him a smile. “Plus, it’d be cool to show you where I grew up, since I’m living in the place where you did, so.”

Zayn sticks out his bottom lip and nods considerably, “Fair point.” He says, then leans against the kitchen counter behind him, crossing his ankles, “So, when did you wanna leave?”

“Niall said whenever, really. But I’ve got Monday off work so we could go down this weekend? Like, if you want to.”

“What, like, Friday afternoon?”

“Yeah.” Louis says, then like a light bulb flicking on inside his head his face contorts into realization, “Shit, that’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Zayn nods slowly.

“Right.” Louis’ eyes lock onto something behind Zayn’s shoulder, concentrating. His fingertips drum on the counter, like he’s riling himself up to do something courageous. He takes in a deep breath then nods shortly to himself. “Right.” He repeats, “I’ll let Niall know, then.”

He stands up from the kitchen stool and takes his phone back out of his pocket, dialling Niall’s number.

*

Zayn walks into their bedroom on the Friday, finding Louis sitting on top of a small suitcase, attempting to zip it up. Zayn leans up against the doorway for a few minutes, finding joy in the little grunts Louis’ makes as he bounces on the suitcase, moving the zipper up a few inches every so often. When the zipper doesn’t budge the next time he tries, though, he lets out a defeated sigh and leans backwards, his eyes locking onto Zayn’s.

He doesn’t get frightened, just blinks at Zayn, defeated. “How long have you been standing there?”

He shrugs, “Long enough. C’mon,” He says, kneeling down next to the suitcase, “Let me help.”

As he takes out the contents of what’s in the suitcase—all the clothes and toiletries crinkled and shoved in non-strategically, half the clothes not even folded—Louis sits on the floor next to him, his head resting against the bed, watching Zayn.

“I’m nervous for tomorrow.” He says, almost pouting.

“Don’t be, babe. It’ll be fine, yeah?” Zayn tells him, rearranging the clothes. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about.”

“ _Yeah_ , I do.” Louis says, frowning a little, his eyes no longer on Zayn’s. He’s seen this expression on Louis’ face too many times, when he’s over-thinking something, when he’s worried, when he’s jumping to the worst-case scenarios in any situation. He’s seen this expression on Louis’ face too many times and every time, Zayn stops him before he can speak about what’s exploding in his mind.

“Lou, if you feel uneasy or if you want to go back home, it’s okay. Just tell me and we’ll be back here before you know it.”

Louis looks back at Zayn and smiles, and then turns it into a playful pout. “But then I’d be a bit of a weakling. Like, a human with shit feelings, and stuff.”

Zayn pauses from folding up a pair of jeans and cocks his head to one side, “What?”

“Never mind.” Louis flashes a smile. He looks down at the now organized suitcase, “Oh, look at that. It all fits!”

Zayn places the jeans into the case and closes it. He zips it up perfectly and looks at Louis, who’s grinning at the closed case. Zayn places both his hands on either side of Louis’ face, gently tilting him to look him in the eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay with going back there? Niall will understand if you say you’d rather not.” Zayn says earnestly.

Louis rolls his lips together and doesn’t break eye contact. He blinks once, then nods. “Yeah,” He breathes, “I do. It’s okay.”

Zayn searches Louis’ face for any sign of doubt. When he doesn’t find any, he nods, too. “Good.”

Louis leans closer and presses a soft kiss to Zayn’s lips, then brings him in for a comforting hug, his face burying into Zayn’s neck.

“Love you.” He says quietly. Zayn holds him closer.

They stay there for a little bit, with their arms around each other and with Louis’ small puffs of breath hitting softly against Zayn’s neck. They do this sometimes—hugging each other, their bodies close, their breathing in sync. Zayn likes to do it because it’s Louis’ body and he’s the only human he can hug who hugs back; after so long of no contact to having Louis there for almost a year, any gesture of affection is something that Zayn never wants to let go of. He doesn’t know why Louis does it, but he’s always the first to break away. Zayn thinks it’s because he’s too afraid of clinging onto something that he loves too hard, too long, scared that he’s too overbearing, too devoted.

And regardless of the endless reassurance and declarations of love—Zayn knows that Louis still has that slither of doubt and fear. Fear that come the day Zayn eventually turns human, he will leave and find somebody else.

“Should we go, then?” Louis asks, breaking the hold.

Zayn clears his throat, throwing on a comforting smile despite his train of thought. “Yeah, if you’re ready.”

“Yep, sick. Let’s go.” He stands up, taking the suitcase with him.

They leave the apartment block and head towards the back of it, where the hills are visible in the distance. This is the only place Zayn can fly, since other people can’t see it and once they’re in the air they’re hidden, since England’s almost always cloudy, anyway.

Louis takes the suitcase and wraps his arms tightly around it, soon after joined by Zayn’s arms, pulling Louis close to his chest securely. Zayn kisses the skin that’s showing, the part that joins Louis’ neck and shoulders, then lifts off the ground, shooting up towards the sky.

He remembers the first time they flew, when Louis wanted to go to the beach and this was the only form of free transport. He remembers how frightened Louis was at first, completely still in Zayn’s arms, then how he warmed up to it, how he stretched out his arms and loved the way the wind whipped passed his face. Now, since they’ve done this more times than Zayn can count, Louis’ become a professional. Sometimes when they fly, Louis would get a text and he’d answer it with ease, or he’d grab a mirror and fix himself up if he’s running late to work. What he loves most, though, is flying when their chests are pressed together instead, kissing him as Zayn keeps them up in the air.

They’d do it more often, of course, if Zayn hadn’t lost control that one time and almost collided head-on into an airplane.

After a few minutes, Louis taps Zayn’s hand twice and points downwards, telling him to land. Louis had told him previously that there was a perfect oval to land on, one that he remembers exactly where the location of it was, since he used to spend most of his childhood there. Niall had said it was practically deserted now.

He was right, there was no sign of life there at all.

Zayn landed softly on the unkempt grass, avoiding what looked like a deep mud puddle next to them. Louis puts the suitcase down and lifts up the handle as he scans the area. He lets out a disbelieving breath, shaking his head.

“Christ, this has becoming a shithole.” He says, almost in disgust. “I used to play footie here every day at lunch when I was at the orphanage.” He lets out a short laugh, “God, it looks so small now.”

“You didn’t visit when you left the orphanage?” Zayn asks, since Louis had stayed in Doncaster.

“Oh, no.” Louis replies, bringing out his phone from his pocket. “I hardly visited this area, if I’m honest.”

He holds up the phone to his ear, his eyebrows flying up when someone answers, “Yeah, we’re here, mate. Alright, see you soon.”

They step through the oval cautiously, making sure they don't step in any of the drenched grass or the mud piles, and eventually make it to the side of the road.

“I’m excited to see Niall’s place, actually.” Louis tells him, looking out passed the road. “He’s bragged about it heaps, will be good to see how much he’s shit talked.”

Zayn lets out a small laugh, “Do you think it’s better than the apartment you and him shared?”

Louis snorts, “If it’s _anything_ like that place I’ll be highly disappointed in the boy.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything to that, just puts his arm around Louis and pulls him into his body. He runs his hand up and down Louis’ arm, keeping him warm until Niall’s car appears around the corner.

It’s the same car that Zayn saw pull into the apartment block car park a year ago, the one that he was perched on, the one that Louis stepped out of, where his eyes locked onto Zayn’s for the first time.

Niall parks directly in front of them, beaming at Louis from the front seat. He waves at him enthusiastically as Louis opens the door on the same side, ready to sit in the back seat. Zayn places a hand on Louis’ chest softly, gesturing for Louis to sit in the front next to Niall instead.

Zayn gets into the back seat as Louis walks around and enters the front seat, giving Niall a long, warm hug.

“How’re you, mate?” Niall smiles, drawing back to start up the car. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Louis looks around from his view out the windows as Niall begins to drive. Louis nods, “Yeah, it has.”

“Not much has changed, though, if you’re wondering.” Niall tells him, “Don’t think much can change ‘round here in, like, what, a year, is it?”

“Uh, ‘round that, yeah.” Louis replies, tapping his fingers against his thighs. He seems nervous.

They go around a corner and Zayn holds Louis’ suitcase so it doesn’t move around. Niall and Louis talk for a bit longer and Zayn slightly zones out—never really losing sight of Louis’ words, though—and takes a moment to take in what he can see of Doncaster.

It’s something of a gloomy day, the clouds covering the entire sky, faintly turning a dark shade of grey. The buildings are all old, the structure of them looking blindly familiar, like what Zayn would have seen when he was still alive. Some of them remind him of his old home, before it burnt down.

“So, where’s Zayn, then?” Niall asks Louis, but is loud enough to be directed towards Zayn himself. He’s beginning to wonder whether Niall only says it so he can be touched by Zayn. He’s been around Niall enough times that he’s almost sure he knows where Zayn is as soon as his presence is felt.

Though, despite this, Zayn touches Niall’s cheek anyway. It makes Niall blush a little and lean into the touch, his shoulders shivering.

“Oh,” He lets out a small laugh, “There you are. Alright, mate?”

This time, Zayn lets out a laugh. “Is he really gonna do this again?”

Louis’ lips turn up into a knowing smirk, “Niall, Zayn’s asking me if you’re really gonna do this again.”

Zayn sees Niall’s brows turn into a frown in the review mirror, “Do what?”

“Try and talk to him when you know he can’t respond, mate.”

Niall scoffs and turns to Louis, “It’s called being polite, _mate_.”

Then Louis’ laugh fills the car and Zayn is reminded once again why he spent all those days and nights trying to get to know him more, watching through a small window, just to get a glimpse. He leans back against the headrest, watching him yet again.

*

It’s on the edge of sunset by the time they reach Niall’s house. It’s closely connected to his neighbors but on the whole it’s nice and spacious for a one-person house. There’s a small footpath leading up to his front door and they walk up it, Louis’ suitcase rolling next to Zayn, making sure nobody’s around in case they spot it moving without anyone there.

When they enter, the first thing Zayn spots is a huge bar area, with couches and an impressive bar fridge in the corner. Zayn catches Louis’ expression, eyebrows up to his hairline and eyes wide, staring at it astoundingly.

“ _Wow_ ,” He extenuates, followed by a whistle.

“You like it?” Niall asks, walking behind the bar, resting against it like he were a full-time employed bartender. “Just letting you know now, we’re having a party while you’re down here.”

“Well, it’d be a bit of a waste if we didn’t have one, wouldn’t it?” Louis says, running a finger along the bar, inspecting it. “I bet the parties here are insane.”

“Lou,” Niall says excitedly, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “You have _no_ idea.”

Zayn takes the time to look around and take his own tour as the two of them talk. There’s a T.V opposite the bar, with pizza boxes stacked on the coffee table next to it. Zayn makes the quick conclusion that Niall doesn’t cook that often. He leaves the suitcase by the front door and walks towards what he assumes is the room that he and Louis will be staying in for the weekend.

It’s definitely their room, since it seems like this is mostly the place where Niall keeps all the things he doesn’t necessarily need, like a study or storage room with a bed. Though, Niall’s taken the effort to make the bed, which is nice.

Zayn flies back to where the boys are and picks up the suitcase. Niall must feel him, since he turns from his conversation with Louis to somewhere in the room, attempting to lock eyes with Zayn but instead is looking at the window a few feet away.

“Find your room alright? It’s the one without the ensuite, yeah?”

Zayn nods at Louis.

“He says he did.” Louis confirms for him. Then turns to Zayn, “I’ll meet you there in a sec, alright, babe?”

“Okay.” Zayn says with a smile, flying back to the room with the suitcase.

He’s not alone for much longer after that. In fact, he hears mumbled replies coming from Niall as Louis says clearly in Zayn’s mind that _he’ll see Niall in the morning_. Zayn doesn’t even have to ask why he doesn’t want to spend time with Niall instead to realize what Louis’ wanting. Excitement flows through Zayn’s veins, completely knowing the emotion belongs solely to him.

Louis appears at the doorway and locks eyes with Zayn’s immediately, a smirk appearing at his mouth.

“Told Niall we’re goin’ to bed early.” He says, voice lower than usual.

Zayn doesn’t reply. He walks towards Louis as he stays still, and shuts the door closed behind him, pushing Louis up against it promptly.

He leans down, ghosts his own lips over Louis’ as he says, “And why would you tell him that?”

Louis hums as his eyes flick up from Zayn’s mouth to his eyes, now dark and wanting. His hands grab at the front of Zayn’s shirt. “I think you know.”

He pulls Zayn closer and closes the gap between them, kissing him sweetly a few times before trailing down Zayn’s jawline. Zayn’s hand travel down Louis’ shoulders, moving slowly to caress the sides of Louis’ body—his chest, his waist, his hips—and it’s not until Zayn’s thigh slips, his body jerking when Louis bites suddenly at Zayn’s neck, when he feels Louis already half-hard between them.

After their first time, Louis’ almost been like a nympho, wanting it everywhere, anywhere, all the time. It’s like he’s addicted to sex and Zayn absolutely loves it.

He tilts Louis’ head so he can latch his mouth onto his again, kissing him harder than before. His hand strokes teasingly alongside the waistband of Louis’ jeans, and then he slides down and palms the front of it. The hiss that comes out of Louis’ mouth makes Zayn pull away.

Louis’ pupils are blown wide when he looks at him. He glances down at Zayn’s lips, probably all red and puffy from the kissing, and his gaze doesn’t break away when he says, “God, I love your mouth.”

He already knows what Louis’ asking without asking it, and it only takes a second longer for Zayn to pick Louis up and place him down on the bed, hovering over him. He carefully places each knee on either side of Louis’ hips and doesn’t waste time to unbutton Louis’ jeans.

They’re in no rush at all, could probably take all the time in the world. But Louis’ impatient and hates it when Zayn teases, (even if he’s not teasing, just taking a little slower than what Louis thinks is necessary) so he’s certain that the lead-up should be as fast as he can manage.

When he pulls down the zipper, Louis’ already shrugging off the excess material, pulling them off using his legs. His thighs tighten and Zayn trails his fingers over them, loving the way they feel.

Once, Zayn got Louis off just by rubbing his stubble across the softness of Louis’ inner thighs and playing tenderly with his nipples. The next day Louis couldn’t even wear boxer shorts since it hurt too much.

The waistband of his briefs sits just underneath his hipbones, being dragged down by the weight of his jeans. Zayn tugs down at the bottom of them slightly and it’s enough for Louis’ cock to spring out of them, almost hard enough to reach his stomach.

Zayn licks his palm and wraps a hand around him, earning a gasp from Louis, hips bucking up desperately to feel Zayn’s mouth on him. So, of course, Zayn gives him what he wants and shuffles down the bed a little more so he can lean over comfortably, and kisses the tip of Louis’ cock softly.

“ _Zayn_.” Louis grits out, only saying his name but it’s filled underlying demands. He bucks his hips up again, impatient, and Zayn decides to put him out of his misery by wrapping his lips around him and dipping down.

Louis goes still at the movement. When Zayn looks at him, Louis’ eyes are closed, his mouth partly open, his chest rising and falling at a steady rate, like he’s trying to calm himself, trying to last as long as he can.

Zayn licks stripes up Louis’ length, flattening his tongue and wetting as most as he can with his lips still wrapped around him. When it’s wet enough, he results to sucking him normally until his jaw begins to hurt, loving the pain and the small whimpers he earns from Louis, his fingers now playing with one of his nipples.

Desperate to hear more, Zayn uses two fingers to slide down Louis’ cock, then uses his tongue to lick around the tip of it, reaching where he knows Louis is most sensitive.

“F— _fuck_ , Zayn.” Louis pants, shifting his hips around, his hand flying to Zayn’s hair, his fingertips scraping against his scalp.

Zayn’s hands grab onto either of Louis’ thighs, holding him in place. He prepares himself for what’s coming and opens his mouth a little wider, just in time for Louis to begin pushing him down further with his hand. He moans softly around his cock and the vibrations force a louder whine from Louis, pushing Zayn down some more until he’s almost at the base.

His eyes start to water and his jaw’s hurting but it’s all worth it as he watches Louis’ back arch off the mattress, his hand firm in Zayn’s hair, massaging it and keeping Zayn on his cock. Louis’ other hand’s now over his own mouth, knowing that when he comes, his sounds will only get louder. Usually, he’d let it out, scream down the apartment, but with Niall in the next room he’s decided against it. Probably for the best.

Zayn slides his mouth upwards, and when Louis pushes him down again, Zayn chokes and that’s what pushes him over the edge. Louis lets out a muffled cry of Zayn’s name and shoots down Zayn’s throat, hand falling lazily off his head.

He pulls Louis’ through it, taking his mouth off his cock and replaces it with his hand, slowly stroking him and riding him through his orgasm. Louis’ forehead’s sweaty, his lips are plump from biting them and his eyes are still shut. The shirt he’s wearing has ridden up to his chest, showing his waist and the way it tightens and loosens, his breathing slowing as he comes down from his high.

“Oh, God.” Louis pants, leaning his head to one side of the pillow so he can rest.

With his own need, Zayn quickly reaches down into his own pants and strokes himself fast, watching as Louis breathes softly, completely wrecked from Zayn’s mouth. Louis turns his head and slowly blinks open his eyes, watching Zayn contently with hooded eyes as Zayn slowly reaches his orgasm.

“You’re so beautiful, Zayn.” Louis tells him, his voice more rough than usual. “You made me feel so good.”

“Lou,” Zayn groans, his other hand clutching on to the bed sheets so he doesn’t lose balance. He pumps himself faster.

Zayn’s on the verge of reaching his high, he can feel it in the lowest part of his stomach, then all throughout him. He locks onto Louis’ movement, moving slowly towards Zayn. He kneels up until they’re inches apart. Then Louis’ lips are on Zayn’s neck, sucking sweetly, and Zayn loses it.

He comes between them, getting it over his hand and some on Louis’ shirt from where it fell back down. They’re in no rush to clean up, though, and they both kneel there for a moment, resting on each other and listening to nothing but their breathing and heartbeats.

He eventually gets up and brings a small, wet towel from the bathroom and cleans both of them up thoroughly. And afterwards, they lie there underneath the covers, Louis on Zayn’s chest and Zayn’s hand in Louis’ hair. They’re silent for a few moments, and Zayn’s almost nodding off to sleep, but he knows now not to doze off before Louis, knowing that if Louis’ still awake, he’s still got something to say.

“Our one year anniversary is coming up.” He says, and Zayn feels his lips edge up into a small smile against his chest.

Zayn hums in response. “It is, isn’t it? Like, a month away.”

“Yeah.”

He cards his fingers into Louis’ hair, feeling the way Louis’ eyelashes blink closed.

“Want anything specific?” Louis asks him, his fingers now trailing alongside Zayn’s waist.

“Lou,” Zayn says with a small laugh, “You ask this every month."

He hears a small groan and then Louis’ sitting up, facing Zayn, his hair still a mess and his eyes still slightly droopy. “Yeah, but one year’s are _special_.” He whines weakly. “C’mon,” He pokes at Zayn’s chest, “Tell me what you want.”

Zayn looks him in the eye and offers him a smile, “You’re my present.”

He tells Louis this every time Louis asks what Zayn wants, but by the way Louis’ eyes still brighten and his cheeks still turn a shade of pink, he knows that it’s not getting old.

Louis grins, “Alright, how ‘bout I wrap myself up in paper with nothing else on underneath and you can take it off. Is that what you want?”

Suddenly the thought of unwrapping Louis to reveal his body fills Zayn’s mind. And, yes, that’s _definitely_ what he wants.

He nods, “Yes, please.”

He earns a scoff and an eye roll from Louis, then he pouts, “ _Surely_ you want, like, a gift or something special?”

Zayn shakes his head. He’s got everything he wants right here.

Louis stares at him for a few moments, judging his expression like he’s trying to crack a code. Sometimes he convinces Zayn that he can read his mind. Zayn knows it’s a lie but sometimes he likes to play along. It’s all worth it when Louis’ eyes widen in amazement at his own hidden talent, telling Zayn he should create his own mind game show.

“Fine,” Louis eventually huffs out, sinking back down into the bed, “But you have a week to come up with something.”

Zayn smiles and wraps his arm around Louis, bringing him into his chest again. Louis goes freely, returning back to his original position. Zayn continues to massage his fingertips into Louis’ hair.

“What about you, then, anything you’d like?”

There’s a pause in Louis’ response. Then, “Well, you’ve made it hard for me, now, haven’t you? All the gifts you’ve given me have been _stolen_ , so—“

“You don’t like them?” Zayn asks, eyebrows suddenly frowning, worried.

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Louis says immediately, then presses a soft kiss to Zayn’s chest. “Of course I like them. It’s just, like, not morally right, is it?”

Zayn shrugs. He’d steal a whole country if it meant it were for Louis. Plus, of course, if it were possible.

“But, uh, in saying that,” Louis continues, a little sheepish, “I don’t know what I want, either.”

“Well, then. You have a week to come up with something.”

He smiles as Louis lets out a small, surprised laugh and cuddles in closer.

*

The next day, Louis’ nervous again.

He’s driving and he’s constantly fidgeting. He steps on the accelerator and taps his fingers on the steering wheel in a rhythm Zayn can’t determine. He keeps clearing his throat and refuses to look at one spot for more than a second.

When they reach a red light, Louis steps on the breaks and immediately goes to fiddle with the radio, mumbling something about “crappy talk-show hosts” and Zayn takes Louis’ hand away, holding it in his own without a word.

Louis sighs at the contact and meets Zayn’s eye, his own expression sheepish. Zayn knows Louis can tell he’s being slightly irritating and constantly moving but it’s normal, when you’re anxious.

“Sorry,” Louis starts to say.

“It’ll be fine.” Zayn tells him softly, running his thumb calmly over Louis’ hand. It’s not much, but Louis seems to settle down after that.

He doesn’t know where they’re headed, Louis told him it was a surprise, but if Louis’ actions are anything to go by he’s guessing it’s pretty huge. They enter into a side street, one that’s emptier than the other roads they’ve been down, and it looks like people seem to not visit very often, judging by the lack of cleanliness throughout it.

Zayn hears Louis take in a deep breath and when he turns the car into a small parking lot, Zayn sees it. Written in bold, capital and rusty letters: ‘DONCASTER ORPHANAGE’ is seen out the front of a very old looking building.

He squeezes Louis’ hand sub-consciously to comfort him and only lets go to get out of the car when Louis does. He knows how hard it must be for Louis, to return to the place where he most wanted to escape, where he was never picked to be brought up in a lovely home with a lovely family. He’s brave coming back here, really, having to see the next generation of children still left without their own family.

Zayn prays that Louis won’t cry. If he does, Zayn will follow suit at the drop of a hat, since he’s already having to hold back tears just thinking about the parentless children. He’s starting to wonder whether Louis’ not the only one that’ll have to do the calming down.

“Ready?” He asks Louis, standing beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Yeah,” He says, then a little more confidently, “Yeah. I mean, like, got nothing to be nervous about anyway, do I?”

“Not at all.” Zayn agrees with a smile, even if he is lying. “Just think of it as…as though you’re visiting your old school, yeah?”

Louis nods a few times, eyeing the place in front of him, undoubtedly filling his brain with the memories he’s had, like he was back when they were at the oval. Zayn knows Louis never had the advantage of going to an actual school, which was half the reason why he wanted to teach at one. And—of course—because Zayn’s also never seen a better actor, nor teacher.

They enter the orphanage, the sounds of children already heard from the moment they step through the front door onto the wooden floors. It’s a small area, the entire place, and the first thing Zayn sees is an office window with an elderly lady sitting at the desk. Louis’ face lights up at the sight of her.

“Anne, love, you still here?” He greets her with a grin on his face. She looks up, first with a frown, and then she adjusts her glasses and her face softens immediately once she recognizes Louis’ face.

“Louis William Tomlinson, my _god_.” She replies, slightly shocked. She shakes her head softly and grabs Louis’ hand in both of her own. “Was wondering if you’d ever visit.”

“’Course.” Louis says with a soft smile. He gestures to Zayn, “Anne, this is—“ He stops suddenly, then blinks, surprised at himself. Zayn frowns at him, startled. He was just about to introduce him. “This is, uh, it hasn’t changed much, has it?” Louis asks, quickly recovering.

They fall into conversation about what Louis’ been doing and what’s happened ever since Louis’ left. Zayn watches him and catches his expression sometimes switching back to disbelief and almost frustration at his close slip-up. He’s done that only once before, when a boy tried to flirt with him and Louis had told the boy that he was in fact taken. When the boy asked whom he was with, Louis had thrown his arm around Zayn’s middle smugly, only to realize that it looked like Louis was slightly insane and dating an invisible, made-up man.

It made the boy leave him alone, at least.

“Okay, well, Anne, lovely to see you again.” Louis says with a close-lipped smile, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “I’m off to see the rest of this place, so I’ll see you again when I leave, alright?”

“Alright, darling.” Anne nods; letting go of the hand she never let go of throughout the conversation. “Make sure to visit again soon, Louis, I’ll want to see you before my days are up.”

“Nonsense, Anne!” Louis calls as he starts walking down the corridor, “You’ll live forever!”

He turns around and they both catch Anne’s laugh before they reach the door.

It leads to another corridor, but this time it’s filled with rooms on either side. Tiny, squashed rooms with two beds on either side from what Zayn can see. There aren’t many children at this part of the orphanage and is doesn’t take much for Zayn to understand why. He imagines they’d only be used for sleeping and for parents to see the children when they come to adopt, from what Louis’ told him. To Zayn, it reminds him of a pet store, and it’s more upsetting than what he prepared himself for.

“I still remember what room me and Niall shared. The one closest to the outside door, we were always the first out on the playground.” Louis says, almost triumphantly.

Zayn lets out a small chuckle, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Louis leans closer into Zayn when he reaches his room. The door is slightly open, showing the inside of it already. There’s no sound of children in there, so Louis shrugs and pushes open the door.

“Here, Zayn, welcome to my—oh.”

When Louis opens the door fully, they find two boys both lying down on a bed at either sides of the room, both occupied by reading and drawing. One of them must have heard Louis, since he glances up, eyes blown wide as he lets out a small gasp. He drops the book he was reading and stands up suddenly, his back straight as he tries to smooth down his hair and pyjamas, then remains standing with his hands behind his back.

“ _Josh_.” He whispers firmly under his breath to his friend.

The younger one, Josh, pauses from his drawing and looks at his friend. When he realizes, he jumps up and follows the same routine the other boy had done.

“Sorry, sir,” Josh apologizes, big eyes looking up at Louis, “Nobody told us there would be parents coming today.”

Zayn looks at Louis. His eyes look sad, pitiful, and also filled with reminiscences, as though that’s how he and Niall used to be.

“Oh, I…” Louis starts to say, looking between both of the boys; his eyes now replaced with something like guilt. “I’m really sorry, guys. I’m not—um, I actually—I used to live here, like you two.”

They both look at Louis for a few seconds, and then their shoulders slump simultaneously in disappointment when they understand. They return back to their beds with dejected faces and without a word.

Louis quickly looks to Zayn with pleading all over, his hand tightening in Zayn’s.

“They look like they need some cheering up.” Zayn tells him, bouncing his hip against Louis’ as encouragement.

Louis brings his fingers up to his mouth and begins to nervously chew at them, something he does when he’s either thinking or nervous. Zayn thinks it’s a bit of both.

“Hey,” Louis says in a soft voice, a tone he usually uses when he’s speaking to children or pets, “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.” He waits for a response but all he receives is a shrug from the older one and nothing from Josh, who seems very intrigued with his drawing. “How old you are you guys?”

“Seven.” Josh says, his eyes still not leaving his artwork.

“Nine.” The other one replies, monotone, as though he’s had to answer that question more times than he can count.

“I lived here until I was eighteen.” Louis tells them. They both perk up at that.

They frown at Louis, and the older one blinks, “You weren’t adopted?”

Zayn squeezes Louis’ hand, knowing that Louis doesn’t like to speak about that part. Zayn can’t blame him. The feeling of not being wanted is an ugly one, if any. The memories of being neglected tend to get suppressed and it’s hard when they’re forced to be revisited.

But Louis doesn’t seem too affected by it at all. Though, Zayn knows better than to believe whatever façade Louis’ pulling—granted he’s an actor.

“Uh, no, I wasn’t.” He says, managing to flash them both a small smile.

The two boys neglect their hobbies and start to get lost in their thinking, both staring somewhere else, frowns crinkling on their little foreheads. Zayn thinks it’s not normal for a seven-year-old and a nine-year-old to be this sad, just staying indoors without anything else to do. Zayn immediately feels for them, they won’t ever know what it’s like to have their own backyard or to have family vacations or day trips. He’s glad these children can’t see him, they’d hate to see a grown man do nothing but look at them pathetically, even if it is unintentional.

“Was it…?” The younger one trails off. He readjusts his position on the bed, fiddles with his hands and licks his lips once before he starts again. “Is it as hard as they say it is?”

“Yeah, is it?” His friend follows, looking at Louis with interest, “Billy tells us both that we’ll never get adopted ‘cause we’re boring.”

“Well, Billy’s a huge twat, first of all.” Louis tells them without a beat of silence.

Zayn taps Louis’ arm with the back of his hand. Louis’ eyes widen, realizing that these are children he’s talking to.

“I mean, uh, Billy’s a meanie. He’s a huge meanie.”

This, at least, earns a giggle from both of the boys. It makes Louis’ lips spread into a grin and it makes Zayn smile, too.

“And, no, it’s not as bad as they say it is.” Louis answers. Zayn can see the relief on their faces, like Louis’ word goes against anything that’s ever said in this place. “Tell me something,” He says, “Are you two good friends?”

Josh nods his head immediately, like his roommate is the greatest friend he’s got. The older one looks at Josh and smiles small as he lets out a quiet, “Yeah.”

It’s lovely to witness, really. Zayn feels like he may need to go back into Niall’s car and grab himself a tissue in order to dab his eyes a little. Sometimes he preferred it when he was incapable of feeling—but then, no, he definitely doesn’t.

“Well, there you go.” Louis says, gesturing to the both of them, “You’ve already got a family, then, haven’t you?”

After that, the boys warm up to Louis’ company. He ends up sitting on one bed as they both join him and talk about what they enjoy doing and what they’re going to do once they get adopted. Zayn remembers Louis telling him how he and Niall used to discuss the exact same thing, their plans for the future. He told him how every plan always started with “when we get adopted…” and it was never replaced with ‘if’—until they turned thirteen.

He watches Louis, how he chats so animatedly with the two young boys. He’s great with children, Zayn concludes. One day, maybe, when Zayn eventually turns, they could have some of their own. He wonders whether or not it’d be a smart idea to tell them that one of their fathers used to be a ghost. Probably not.

These thoughts are soon replaced with something else, though. Zayn may not even turn; by the way things are going. Is that even a thing? Are there some ghosts that are perhaps punished by never going back to being human? Will Louis stay will him forever if that was the case?

Zayn pushes _that_ thought out of his brain, too.

He’s in a gloomy place, which brings upon a gloomy state of mind, is what he tells himself. This may or may not be a long day.

*

After they have a good tour of the place, filled with Louis pointing certain aspects out and telling the stories behind it, he visits Anne one more time and says his good-bye. When they exit, Louis silently tells him that it may be the last time he sees her, not because he doesn’t want to re-visit but because of her age.

“She must be, like, what, edging late nineties?” Louis asks him.

“Wow. Maybe I knew her when I was alive.” Zayn jokes cheekily, giving Louis a smirk.

“Oh, my god.” Louis pulls a spoiled face, then opens the car door. Zayn follows. “Seriously, when it’s put into that perspective, it’s so weird.” Zayn throws his head back against the headrest and laughs. “No, it’s not funny, you’re so _old_.”

“That I am, Young Grasshopper.” Zayn puts on an old, croaky voice and it makes Louis’ lip twitch in disturbance. Zayn lets out another laugh, then returns back to his normal voice and places a hand on Louis’ thigh. “Don’t look so scared, Lou. You know I’m actually your age, physically.”

“Yeah, I know,” Louis says, not sounding believable. He trails his eyes over Zayn, scanning him. “Hm. You’re lucky you’re good-looking.”

Zayn gapes at him and pinches his arm. Louis glares at him, feigning shock, and rubs at his arm.

“So, where are we off to now?” Zayn asks him, resting his hand back on Louis’ thigh.

Louis starts the car. “Well, there’s one other place that I wanna visit before we head back to Niall’s.”

*

When they open the door to the empty apartment, after fiddling with the lock for a little bit, Zayn feels like he’s just stepped into a closet. The ceiling is lower than anything Zayn’s ever walked into, which wouldn’t be so much as a hassle for Louis and Niall, but Zayn has to watch his head wherever he walks.

There’s a corridor at the entrance, where they have to enter in single file, then it opens up into a small kitchen, complete with a fridge and a stove. Louis tells Zayn that they couldn’t prepare in the kitchen, they had to do it on the dining table. Which, by the way, was only set for two people solely.

There was no room for a T.V but Louis tells him they made room in their bedroom for one. The bedroom was tiny, with two single beds pressed on either side of the room, one wardrobe in the middle of the beds.

“When we saw the ad in the paper for this, it said ‘two bedroom house’, right?” Louis tells Zayn, standing in the middle of the room, “They meant two beds, not bedrooms.” He laughs and shakes his head, “We couldn’t afford anything else at the time, of course, so this had to do.”

“It’s… cozy.” Zayn supplies. Louis laughs again and wraps himself to Zayn’s side, his head on his shoulder.

They face the only window in the room. It’s smaller than Zayn’s head, letting the tiniest bit of light into the room. The view is a bunch of foliage that looks like it hasn’t been tended to in years.

“Christ, how did I live here?” Louis says, shaking his head. “Hey,” He looks up to Zayn, “What if you had to spy on me through that window instead?”

Zayn looks at the window again, knowing he would only be able to see half of the room through it. He smirks at Louis, “I’d have to buy a pair of binoculars.”

Louis snorts, then pinches Zayn’s side, “Creep.”

There’s a vibration between them, and then Louis’ ringtone fills the room. It’s a song Zayn’s become familiar to, so when he hears it he leans away from Louis so he can pull it out of his pocket and answer the call.

“Niall, mate, what’s up?” A pause. Louis’ eyebrows create a crease on his forehead. “What? But you just decided you wanted to have one, like, yesterday.” Another pause. Louis laughs. “Very true, Niall. Okay, we’ll head back to yours to help, then. See you later.”

He slips the phone back into his pocket as Zayn wraps an arm around Louis’ middle. “What’d he say?”

Louis links his arms around Zayn’s neck, “Niall’s throwing a party at his tonight, wants us to help him set it all up.”

Zayn feigns worry, “Oh, but,” He gestures down at himself, “I don’t have anything to wear!”

Louis throws his head back as he laughs, then taps Zayn’s nose lightly. “You’re such an idiot.” He says, and presses a fond kiss to his lips.

*

As it turns out, Niall remarkably knows practically everyone in the Doncaster district. The entire house is filled; the bar is certainly put to good use, too, which seems to please Louis. But, seeing Louis in the state that he’s in now, anything could probably please him.

He’s chatting with a bunch of people that are old childhood friends of Louis and Niall. Zayn’s kept his space the whole night; letting Louis have his fun and not bothering to sip on the drinks Louis offers him, knowing that it wouldn’t affect him in the slightest. He’s leaning against the couch, peering over the crowd of heads to keep a watchful eye on Louis.

He’s laughing at something one of the boys he’s with said, bracing his hand on the boy’s shoulder to steady himself, a drink in his other hand. The boy watches Louis, eyes shining as though he’s proud of himself.

A familiar burn shoots through Zayn’s body and he frowns at it, confused. He’s managed to control his jealousy and has taught himself to not be such a protective and possessive person these past months, so when the burn appears within him as though months of teaching himself to play it cool has flown out the window, he begins to question it, wondering if there’s something more than what meets the eye.

He begins to study the boy. From the first impression, he seems like a smart, respectable male. He’s slicked back his light hair, which he runs his fingers through frequently, like a nervous habit. He’s wearing a button-up shirt and denim washed jeans, something that doesn’t look too sketchy. He’s obviously observing Louis closely, though, and that doesn’t go unnoticed to Zayn’s eye.

The boy seems to find joy in Louis’ intoxicated state. Zayn knew it wasn’t a good idea for Louis to drink as much as he had, but Louis had a good argument, stating that he hasn’t been to a party in so _long_ , Zayn. And Zayn had given in pretty quickly. Maybe it wasn’t a good argument; maybe Zayn just needs to toughen up a little.

In this moment, though, Zayn’s glad he’s watchful. He’s glad he takes mental notes of this distrustful boy’s every move. He’s glad he had a burning gut feeling.

Otherwise, he would not have noticed the small, white pill he subtly slips into Louis’ drink.

Zayn’s next to him in an instant, and in the one movement, he takes the drink out of Louis’ hand and smacks the boy’s front with his fist, hard. The boy doubles over, making Louis frown.

When he turns to Zayn, though, his face lightens up and he wraps his arms around Zayn’s middle immediately. “Zaaayn,” He hums, pressing tiny kisses to the side of Zayn’s neck, “Missed you.”

“I’m right here, Lou.” Zayn whispers in Louis’ ear. He smiles slightly, watching as the guilty boy cries out as he rolls around on the floor, holding onto his stomach for dear life as his other two friends crouch down beside him in worry and confusion.

“I had a drink in this hand,” Louis pouts, looking at his hand. His eyes are glassy and he’s wobbling slightly, blinking slow. Zayn thinks he’s never looked so adorable.

He considers hitting the disgusting boy some more. Who in their right mind would want to drug Louis? His sweet, innocent Louis.

“Yeah, you finished it.” Zayn lies, caressing Louis’ cheek softly, “I think that’s enough for tonight, though, don’t you?”

Louis lets out a whine of protest, “But this bar is made to be used, Zayn!” He exclaims, throwing his arms around, “It would be a _crime_ to be sober.”

“You’re not sober, Lou.” Zayn tells him, laughing a little. “Trust me, the bar is definitely getting used.”

“Who’re you talking to, Louis?” A girl asks next to him, someone who must have been watching for a while. She’s got a grin on her face, like this is the most entertaining thing she’s ever seen.

Zayn feels a pang of guilt. He knows he can’t help being invisible, but it’s upsetting when people catch Louis talking to ‘nobody’, knowing that it must be humiliating. Louis claims that it doesn’t bother him, but Zayn still feels some shame whenever it happens. He also gets a sense of anger towards whoever catches him, like it’s their fault for addressing it, and he glares at this girl, burning a whole through her skull.

“Well, exc _use_ you, lady.” Louis shoots back, frowning. The girl’s face drops, probably offended that Louis didn’t use her name. “This happens to be my highly attractive boyfriend, actually. Enjoy watching all you want! He’s a ghost and I don’t care! Zayn’s a gho—“

Zayn blocks off his mouth with his hand, wide-eyed. “ _Louis_.” He whispers harshly. Louis doesn’t seem to get the problem with it, and licks Zayn’s palm with a grin.

The girl, on the other hand, seems overwhelmingly confused, her mouth opening and closing like she doesn’t know what to say. A few other people around them seem to have overheard, and are looking at each other with incredulous looks, looking at Louis like he’s gone crazy.

Zayn takes his hand away from Louis’ mouth and moves to take Louis’ hand instead, pulling him out towards the miniature balcony, where there aren’t any party guests. As soon as Zayn opens the sliding door, the cold air reaches his skin and creates goose bumps along it. He shuts the door behind them and Louis clings to his arm, head lolling onto Zayn’s shoulder. They lean against the balcony’s fence, wrapped up in each other.

A party probably wasn’t the best thing to have while they were here. Louis doesn’t seem to mind at the moment, though, humming softly along to the booming music coming from inside. Zayn only hopes Louis doesn’t recall everything tomorrow and simmers over it for weeks.

For a Saturday night, the roads are unusually quiet, most of the sound coming from inside Niall’s house. Zayn considers this, maybe the entire town _is_ here.

“Haven’t seen Niall in a while.” Zayn says softly, not wanting to disturb their new silent peace outside.

Louis starts laughing, “Probably hooked up with a bird.” He picks his head up and looks at Zayn, “He was always good at finding someone at these sorts of parties.”

“Yeah?” Zayn smiles at Louis’ amusement, “What about you?”

Louis quickly throws him a knowing a look, “Do you _really_ wanna know that, Mr. Malik?”

Zayn shrugs, “I’ve got you now, haven’t I? No harm done, the past is the past.”

Louis shrugs, too, mirroring him. “To be fair, I was quite the puller. After I came out, of course, wasn’t too good with girls. Probably ‘cause I wasn’t interested. It’s how I met Eleanor, actually.”

Zayn owes Eleanor a lot, if he’s honest. She was the one that coaxed Zayn out of his hiding spot, even if it did cause a lot of havoc at the time, it was all worthwhile in the long run.

“You hit on her?”

“Poorly.” Louis says, slightly cringing at the memory. “Then afterwards I got really drunk and apologized to her, then told her I was gay.” He lets out a loud laugh. “She’s done me a lot of favors, that girl. Even paired me up with the first guy I ever got with.”

“We’ve got to do something incredible for her birthday, then.” Zayn adds.

“That we do, Zayn, that we do.”

They stand there for a little while longer, Louis occasionally spilling out random stories and remarks that make no sense to Zayn but, of course, he nods along anyway. His eyes are still barely in focus, and he’s beginning to become tired but he’s also still extremely drunk.

Zayn rubs his back smoothly, knowing that he’ll have to take care of Louis in the morning. He remembers that Niall only has one bathroom, so it’ll be a race to the toilet. Maybe one of them will need to vomit the remains of the night before into the kitchen sink. Zayn shudders at the thought of the state of the house when everyone leaves. He’s witnessed a few parties that have been held in the apartment building; he knows the damages and mess they create.

“Zayn?” Louis perks up, his eyes batting slowly as they look into Zayn’s.

He looks sleepy, like he’s ready to crawl into bed and cuddle up to him for days.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I want to be a ghost.”

Time freezes. Zayn’s stomach drops.

His mouth goes dry and his head is suddenly swimming with thoughts that he can’t comprehend. Louis’ voice repeats in his mind and it’s the only thing he can concentrate on.

A ghost, Louis wants to be a ghost.

He can’t. He _can’t_ want that, there’s no way. He’s just talking absolute gibberish like he was before—never making sense. He can’t possibly know what he’s saying.

“No, you don’t.” Zayn manages to say, his hold unintentionally tightening where he’s holding Louis.

“I do!” Louis confirms, face beaming at him. Zayn swallows, despite the lack of moisture in his mouth; he refrains from shaking this unspeakable thought out of Louis’ head, despite the overpowering urge to do so. “It’s a perfect anniversary gift, don’t you think? I wanna be a ghost, Zayn. Turn me into a ghost.”

“You don’t want that.” Zayn says immediately, sternly.

“Do too.” Louis grins back, poking at Zayn’s middle playfully.

Zayn catches his hands and waits until Louis looks him in the eyes again.

“ _No_ , you don’t. End of conversation.”

Louis pauses. Zayn starts to think he’s finally got it through his head about how serious a statement like that is to make. But, Zayn thinks too soon, and Louis begins to laugh.

He rolls his eyes, hugging Louis closer; clinging onto every piece of hope he has, hoping that Louis’ only being mindless. _It’s the alcohol talking_ , as Niall would put it.

He hopes that Louis brings it up again the next morning and laughs about it still, telling him it was all a joke to get him riled up. But, _an intoxicated mind speaks a sober heart_ , as Harry would say.

God, Zayn hopes that Louis talks to him about it. There’s a terrible, sickening feeling whirling around in his stomach and his eyebrows form an unbreakable frown.

A few minutes pass, and Louis’ snoring on Zayn’s shoulder.

*

The next morning, Louis doesn’t mention it.

Zayn waits for it, but the conversation doesn’t occur. Louis spent the first hour of the day vomiting in Niall’s bathtub, and with Zayn soothing his back and bringing him water. The second hour of the day is spent half-heartedly cleaning up Niall’s slightly trashed house.

That task consisted entirely of Niall and Louis coping with hangovers, slowly trying to maneuver around the rooms with mops and paper towels whilst Zayn flew around the place cleaning up everything. Of course he didn’t mind, though, he half-expected this would be the case.

By the third hour, Niall tells him to stop cleaning.

“Sit down, mate. This is much more than I was planning to do today, anyway.”

So Louis fixes them all a cup of tea and they sit on the couch, watching re-runs of a T.V show Zayn’s not familiar with. They’re not exactly watching it, either. Conversation picks up over the events that happened last night, which is when Zayn thought that particular moment would arise or when Louis would turn to him with a big, cheeky grin and slap Zayn’s knee as he says, “and remember when I told you I wanted to be a ghost? God, you should’ve seen your face!” which, to Zayn’s disappointment, never happened.

Zayn doesn’t mention anything about “drug-boy”, either.

When another hour passes, it’s twelve in the afternoon and Louis tells Niall they should go. Louis packs his small suitcase (with the help of Zayn) and Niall drives them to the same oval in which he picked them up two days before.

“Well, I’ll see you when I see you, yeah?” Louis says, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Yeah, mate. Give me a call when you get home.” Niall tells him, and reaches over to the passenger seat to give his best friend a long hug.

When they part, Niall turns to the backseat where Zayn’s seated. Truth is, Zayn could fly over to the oval and be there before either of them but there’s something about travelling in a car and being with Niall and Louis that makes him feel a bit more normal, human.

“Good to have you here, too, Zayn. Thanks for cleaning up.”

Niall holds his hand out and Zayn takes it, giving it a shake. Without fail, Niall shivers, his eyes falling shut slightly at the cold touch.

They let go and say their good-byes again, before Zayn and Louis leave the car and Niall leaves the oval. It’s completely bare again, but it hasn’t rained in the time they’ve spent here so the mud piles have dried a little, making it easier for them to cross the grass without having to check their steps.

It’s now, when they’re alone, that Zayn is sure Louis will mention _something_. And when he talks, Zayn’s anticipation feels like it’s eating him alive.

“Was fun, don’t you think?” He says, finding Zayn’s hand and linking it with his own.

“Yeah, it was. Did you like visiting?”

“I thought it was great, to be honest.” Louis says, a smile in his voice. “I mean, it’s only been a year but so much has changed, you know what I mean?”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, just continues to walk and presses a small kiss on the top of Louis’ head.

They get into their flying positions when they’re in the middle of the oval, sure to be out of anyone’s sight. Louis takes the suitcase from Zayn’s hand and hugs it to his chest as Zayn’s arms wrap around him. Then they begin to fly home.

*

Louis’ asleep on Zayn’s chest not even thirty minutes from walking in the door. Louis was telling Zayn how he was going to make dinner, one so good that even Harry would be impressed. But his body had other plans, as it seems, since now Louis’ face is pressed into the cotton of Zayn’s shirt, mouth slightly opened, breathing softly.

Usually, the sight would make Zayn feel as though he was lifted. Like he was as light as a feather, his heart would beat a little faster and his entire being would be free, lenient.

Though, now, he’s feeling entirely the opposite. His throat’s tight, like if he were to let up, sobs would escape and wake Louis up, no doubt. His shoulders are tense, not able to relax despite how much he tries to tell himself to. His stomach feels uneasy, like there’s a storm inside him, waves of fear and anxiety crashing together, never settling. His fingers have stilled in Louis’ hair, where he’d usually be stroking until he falls asleep himself.

And he knows why. Hell, it’s the only thought at the front of his mind.

If Louis wants to be a ghost, he wants to die.

Zayn’s tried to give him everything. He’s tried to make Louis the happiest he can, tried to make Louis see his worth and tried to give him comfort and support whenever he needed it. If Louis dies, he’s gone forever, just like Zayn’s family did. The risk that Louis will even turn into a ghost is alarmingly slim. He either knows that, or he doesn’t.

He presses a kiss to Louis’ head. “Don’t leave me.” He whispers.

Zayn will turn human soon, he _will_. He has to—for Louis’ sake.

Louis stirs a few minutes later on Zayn’s chest and his breathing falters a little. Zayn can see Louis’ eyelashes move as he blinks.

“Nice nap?” Zayn says, soft, moving his fingers through Louis’ hair with hope that Louis will think he was doing it the whole time and assume that nothing’s different.

He hums happily, his lips turning up into a lazily smile. Zayn’s chest tightens.

“Hungry?”

Louis looks at him, then, and gives Zayn a small kiss. He stares at Zayn’s eyes again, then nods.

Zayn’s glad that Louis’ tired now. Cooking him dinner gives him something to do, at least. He shifts and Louis obliges, curling up to the other side of the couch as Zayn stands.

*

They both go to bed a while after eating dinner, both with satisfied stomachs and almost-settled mind. If it weren’t for Louis’ constant glances at Zayn’s glow or fascination with Zayn’s everything, Zayn wouldn’t have frequent nagging in the forefront of his mind, telling him that Louis’ admiring the ghosts aspects that he wishes to have.

Normally, Zayn wouldn’t think twice about it. He’d only look straight back at Louis and admire everything about _him_. Now, Zayn wishes he’d stop.

He sits on the foot of the bed as Louis enters the room. His own skin glows, but in a different way. It’s a golden glow, bright and beautiful, like the life within his veins make it seem. He locks eyes with Zayn, his blue and vibrant eyes, and smiles softly with them. He’s so warm, everything about him, from the pink of his lips to the heat of his hands, Zayn couldn’t even dream of him looking otherwise.

Cold and dead just isn’t Louis—it can never be Louis.

“You’re staring.”

Zayn blinks out of his thoughts and quickly realizes that Louis’ undressing himself, getting ready for bed. He’s shirtless, his fingers now moving to unbuckle his belt on his jeans. The sight of him like this already turns his mind to mush.

“Yeah,” Zayn replies, vague.

Louis only smirks at him, then continues to strip.

He takes out the belt from the loops and drops it on the floor, next to his shirt. He’s moving slowly, Zayn notices, and Zayn leans back on his elbows, as he may as well enjoy the show while he’s getting it.

Once the button on Louis’ jeans is undone, he slides his zipper down, and then moves his thumbs so they sit on the waistband of his pants.

He wiggles his hips, revealing the skin that was covered, revealing his hipbones. Zayn’s lost count of the amount of bite-marks he’s left there, but as he bites his lip and scans his body, he finds that they’ve disappeared. He’ll be sure to create more, then

Louis pauses before dropping the jeans around his ankles. Zayn can feel Louis’ gaze on him but Zayn’s too busy reveling in the sight of Louis’ legs—the definition of his calves, the flesh of his thighs—to meet it. He steps out of the clothing elegantly and kicks it to the side.

“You know,” Louis says, voice lower than usual. He takes a step forward, his hands lingering on the waistband of his briefs. Zayn takes a moment to scan up his body before locking eyes with him, which are now hooded, pupils large. “You could walk around naked and nobody would know.”

He takes a step further and crowds in on Zayn, his legs on either side of his own. He sits down on Zayn’s lap with ease and Zayn’s hands automatically wrap around Louis’ waist as Louis begins to unbutton Zayn’s top.

“I could,” Zayn agrees, forcing Louis closer so his folded knees rest on the bed. “Though, I don’t think the other ghosts would like that. Plus, England’s weather isn’t the best to be running around nude.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, and dips closer to nip at Zayn’s neck, taking Zayn’s shirt off as he does so, “But,” He sucks on the skin, making Zayn tilt his head back, “Would you do it?” He stops and locks eyes with Zayn again, kissing him on the lips, “For me?”

“Mm…” Zayn says without thinking. There’s something about Louis, everything about Louis, that makes his brain short-circuit. “I’d do anything for you.”

This seems to please Louis. “Anything?” He asks, an eyebrow raised, his devilish flare revealed in the glint of his eye, the smirk on his lips.

“Always.”

At that, Louis presses Zayn backwards on the bed, “Move up.”

Zayn does as he’s told and moves upwards on the bed until his head rests on the pillows. Louis follows shortly after, his hands moving to take off Zayn’s pants. He remembers the first time they had sex, with Louis directly above him, his cock in Zayn’s mouth, bouncing up and down until he came with such a cry that it made Zayn’s head dizzy.

Ever since then, every time afterwards has been a dream.

“Right,” Louis says, ripping Zayn’s dark jeans off his ankles, onto the floor, “Now that’s out of the way…”

He straddles Zayn’s hips and dips down again, sucking at Zayn’s collarbones. He immediately cards his fingers through Louis’ hair encouragingly. He knows Louis likes to be in control in the lead-up, but ultimately Zayn ends up being the one that controls Louis’ moans, his words, everything up until the moment he comes.

When Louis kisses down Zayn’s chest, he circles his hips a little and Zayn can feel it on his cock. His breath hitches and he notices Louis’ smirk against his skin. He does it again, this time pressing downwards as he does it. A tiny gasp escapes Zayn’s lips and he massages deeper into Louis’ hair.

“Get the lube.” Louis says quickly, already rolling off Zayn’s body to lie face down into the mattress.

Zayn fumbles with the bedside table until he finds it in their regular spot. He slathers two fingers with it then closes the bottle and puts drops it on the floor. He kneels over Louis’ body, in between his legs. He traces a finger down Louis’ bum, watching as he shudders at the touch, then nudges one finger in. Louis clenches at the sheets, his eyes shutting.

He looks so good. His sun-kissed body dipping into the bed, his biceps tensing every time his fists clench, his hips moving up and down, trying to gain friction He looks so good, Zayn bends down and bites into Louis’ skin. If he can’t get to his hipbones, he’ll settle for the dimples on his back.

He pushes his finger in a little further, circling like he knows how Louis’ likes it. The sounds coming from his mouth make Zayn subconsciously wrap a hand around himself.

Louis’ eyes open as soon as Zayn makes contact, “You’re not touching yourself back there, are you?”

“ _God_ ,” Zayn breathes, releasing his hand. He sees Louis smirk, then close his eyes again.

For that, Zayn shoves in a second finger a little harder than the first, and it makes Louis’ legs fall open more, a shocked gasp leaving from his mouth. Zayn scissors his fingers and Louis falls into the mattress a little more, his whole body relaxing. He slips in a third finger when he thinks Louis’ ready, and earns a sharp hiss but nothing more.

“I have an idea,” Louis says after a while, his voice noticeably shaky.

“Yeah?” Zayn replies, one hand holding Louis’ hip, the other fucking him with his fingers.

“Mm.” Louis wiggles his bum. “Stop that.”

Zayn reluctantly pulls out his fingers and waits for Louis’ idea. It only takes a few seconds until Louis’ pushing Zayn back down on the bed, Louis hovering over him, like their original position.

He reaches Zayn’s hips, his lips so close to his skin, his fingers teasing as they travel delicately across. The devilish look from before has only grown and Zayn’s almost afraid to hear what Louis has to say. He presses a soft kiss to Zayn’s cock and doesn’t let Zayn have time to react before he’s looking directly into his eyes and saying, “I want you to fuck me mid-air.”

Zayn lets out a choked noise. Something like a gasp and a groan mixed together—surprised at the idea but so turned on regardless—and Louis waits patiently for an answer.

“I don’t—Louis. That won’t—“

Louis’ hand wraps around his cock, making Zayn take in a sharp breath. “You were saying?”

“Uhh…”

Honestly, his mind’s such a blur, and because Louis wanted him to change his answer, he squeezes Zayn’s dick with his hand, forcing a buck from Zayn’s hips.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

Louis presses a feathery kiss to his tip whilst maintaining eye contact and Zayn could come then and there if he hadn’t learnt how to control himself.

“Yeah,” He finds himself saying, “Y-yeah, Lou.”

A million things rush through his mind at that moment—the way Louis’ eyes brighten at Zayn, the worry that this could end terribly, the wonder of if it could actually be possible at all, and the overwhelming excitement that runs throughout him at the mere idea of fucking Louis whilst Zayn holds them both in the air.

At this moment, all thoughts of the words; “ _Zayn, I want to be a ghost_ ,” leave Zayn’s mind. Because, at this moment, he doesn’t blame Louis at all, since only ghosts would get the chance to do something as incredible as this.

They stand up, not far from the bed in case one of them falls, and Louis takes off his underwear, Zayn following. He watches Louis carefully, noticing the apprehension and thrill across his face as he wraps his arms around Zayn’s neck.

“Ready, love?” He asks him, blue staring into his eyes.

Zayn couldn’t be ready for anything like this, if he’s completely being true to himself, but he nods anyway, just to see the smile reach Louis’ eyes

“Let’s get it started, then.”

Zayn’s hands grasp Louis’ thighs, the flesh underneath his bum, and pulls him up so Louis’ wrapped around him, his thighs tight around Zayn’s middle.

“Let’s get you balanced, first.” Zayn says, and his breath hitches when Louis shifts and his bum brushes against Zayn’s painfully hard cock that’s now curving upwards and leaking at the tip.

“Yeah, okay.” Louis whispers, nodding a few times.

Zayn shifts his hands to Louis’ cheeks when he knows that Louis’ firmly latched onto Zayn’s body, and pulls them apart slowly, before his tip touches Louis’ entrance. Louis lets out a breathy sigh, his eyes fluttering close, and he sinks down into it.

“Zay—Oh, god. _Zayn_.” Louis gasps out, completely full of him, down to the base. His fingertips dig into Zayn’s bare back, no doubt leaving marks there as he grasps his shoulder blades.

“M gonna fly now, okay?” Zayn reassures, his own mind fuzzy, the feeling of Louis moving on his dick making his entire body shiver.

“Fuck.” Louis groans, and Zayn takes that as an OK, and he lifts his feet up off the ground slowly, his hands firm on Louis’ waist.

He moves Louis up and down on himself, and Louis opens his eyes, his pupils expanded, darkness filling, and blinks a few times before a breath taken smile grows on his lips.

“We’re in the air.” Louis states, stunned.

Zayn doesn’t reply, just finds Louis’ lips with his own in the need to have more. His flying’s wobbly, he’ll admit that, but also, in his defense, it’s difficult to concentrate on more things than he’s used to. There’s Louis’ lips on his own, the warmth and movement on his dick, the _flying_ and keeping them both up in the air—Louis’ given him a run for his money, that’s one thing for certain.

They fly upwards suddenly when his mind travels a little and it seems to shift Louis into the right position, because he’s breaking away from Zayn’s mouth and throwing his head back, tightening his grip as a loud moan leaves him.

“Jesus,” Zayn curses at the sight. The window’s behind Louis, and the moon lights up the dim side of the room and casts over one side of Louis’ face, the column of his neck. He looks stunning, and Zayn’s not sure how much longer he can last.

Louis comes back and rests his head next to Zayn’s, bobbing up and down, faster and faster.

“Louis—shit, Louis,” Zayn’s voice comes out breathy and soft. He thrusts up into Louis and Louis nips at Zayn’s collarbone, “ _Fuck_ , Lou, ‘m close.”

“Me too.”

They kiss again and Zayn uses one of his hands to move in between their bodies, wrapping around Louis’ cock. Louis’ panting now, saying words that only enter Zayn’s ears as nonsense. They’re jolting up and down in the air, so his technique is sort of awful, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind. Zayn swipes his thumb over Louis’ head and that seems to do it.

Louis comes with a shout of Zayn’s name and Zayn follows soon after, coming up into Louis and they suddenly jolt upwards, a millimeter away from hitting the ceiling.

What happens next seems to be out of his control, but it’s like his entire ability to fly was escaped from him in the span of a second and they begin to fall.

Before they hit the ground, though, Zayn turns them so he hits the ground first, Louis following soon after, landing on Zayn’s chest.

“That was—“

“What the fuck?” Zayn frowns, the pain in his back not bothering him, but his failure to not land softly does.

Louis rolls off Zayn tiredly and yawns, not seeming affected by the fall. “You alright?”

He trails his fingers over Zayn’s chest softly. “Yeah,” Zayn says, turning his head to look at him, “Don’t know what happened there.”

Louis shrugs, his eyes sleepy, “Maybe you fucked me so hard all your energy was used up.”

A smile grows on Zayn’s face and he drops his arm next to Louis so Louis can rest his head on it and snuggle closer to Zayn’s side.

“We should get you to bed, I think.”

Louis hums, “Let’s just spend a few minutes here, first. I’m knackered.”

A small laugh escapes Zayn, “Alright.”

He cards his fingers through Louis’ hair. Small puffs of his breath hit Zayn’s bare chest, the cool air slowly putting him to sleep.

“Flying’s cool, innit?” Louis says suddenly, voice faint. “Wish I could fly.”

Zayn stills.

“Isn’t that great, really.”

He knows the playing-it-cool act was diffused by the way his voice comes out a little more stern than he anticipated. Louis picks his head up enough to look at Zayn, an eyebrow quirked.

“How do you mean?” Louis questions him; Zayn doesn’t want to do this now. “What we just did was pretty great, don’t you think?”

“It was.” There’s no denying _that_. “But flying’s average, if I’m honest. Would rather a pair of legs that stayed on the ground.”

Louis scrunches his nose up at that, eyebrows pulling together. “ _Why_?”

Zayn doesn’t know how to respond, so he merely shrugs and hopes that passes as a fair enough answer.

“Rightio.” Louis shrugs back and leans over to give Zayn a brief kiss. “’M gonna have a shower.”

And like that, he gets up off the floor and heads towards the ensuite. Zayn turns his head back to the ceiling once the bathroom door closes, not even bothering to crawl into bed, and sighs.

*

The next day Zayn flies Louis to work. They enter through the front door after emerging from the deserted forest beside the school, and rush down the hallway. Louis’ late, already having missed his regular mentor group he has with selected students.

“God, Heather’s gonna kill me.” Louis mutters to Zayn as they speed-walk down the laminated floors.

“She won’t, you know how much she loves you.” Zayn reassures, not even doubting for a second that Heather, his boss and also the principal of the school, would promote Louis in a heartbeat if it was what Louis wanted. She’s also made it extremely obvious that she wants in Louis’ pants. Zayn feels sorry for her, really, since she doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of being ‘ _gay_ ’.

They enter Louis’ regular classroom, a few students already waiting outside, a minute before the bell rings.

“Deluca, Will, James, how’re you all?” Louis nods to them and their positive responses come all at once and blend into one. Louis unlocks the door and opens it, placing it into the stand to hold it open as the students bustle inside.

“Today’s gonna be a crappy day, I can feel it already.” Louis mumbles to Zayn briefly. “Was so rushed, didn’t even have time to have my tea, did I?”

“Want me to get you some?”

Louis seems to think about it, his eyes wondering, but the decision comes fast, “No, no. Tea’s shit here, anyway.”

“I can go back home—“

He looks at Zayn like he’s turned into something horrid, “ _What_? No. It’s fine, stay here.”

Zayn nods, unable to hide the little smirk that grows on his lips. Louis hasn’t let Zayn out of his sight ever since they got together. There may have been a few times when they’re out and Zayn strays a bit too far for Louis’ liking and Louis pretends to be mad when they get back together—he turns away, arms crossed over his chest, jaw jutted out—but Zayn knows exactly why Louis doesn’t like to be apart.

The pain, Louis had described, was the worst thing he’s ever had to experience in his life. He remembers it well, when he chose to stay at Liam’s for a whole week—Zayn remembers it, too, being in a constant state of near-death and never-ending excruciating pain—and Louis had told him it had felt like something was tearing him limb from limb, plus someone punching him all over, and on top of that, like something was aching to get out and almost forcing him open.

After that, the fear of being away from Zayn, the fear of feeling that again _because_ he’s away from Zayn, is immense, incontrollable. Zayn doesn’t blame him.

Class continues as usual. There’s a production happening at the end of the year, something Shakespearian, Romeo and Juliet, (in which Louis had complained, “It’s rubbish, _everyone_ does Shakespeare!”) and they’ve been doing solely that, rehearing lines and getting more and more into character. At first, the two main characters, Julie and Rob, were grossed out by the idea of having to pretend to be in love. Now, after a huge lecture that Louis had given them about being an actor, the two of them are more than enthusiastic about their roles.

The play already looks incredible. Louis’ directed the entire thing and has mentored his students one by one, focusing on their strengths and bettering their weaknesses. Zayn watches him selflessly, admiring his patience and teaching technique. Honestly, if Zayn had teachers like Louis when he went to school, he’d never leave.

Well, if Zayn had met _anyone_ like Louis when he was alive…

The bell for lunch rings and the students pack up their scripts and props, slowly making their way out of the classroom, with Louis calling out reminders about the homework they needed to complete before the end of the week. Julie, the one playing Juliet—what a fitting name—stays behind for a few minutes to talk to Louis about the play, questions about the ending and how she should phrase her words at particular parts.

“Tell you what, just focus on what we did today, yeah? Don’t overthink it, Julie, you’re wonderful.” Louis smiles at her, genuine. She blushes lightly. “We have class tomorrow morning, don’t we? We’ll move on then.”

“Yeah, okay.” She nods, giving him a smile. “See you tomorrow, Louis!”

“Bye, Julie.”

She walks out of the room and Zayn leans against the stage, watching Louis as he packs away his things in his backpack. Louis catches his eye and he tilts his head in question.

“What’s that smile for?”

“Nothing.” Zayn lies, shrugging once. “Just can’t help but notice that everyone you talk to here seems to have a little crush on you, s’all.”

Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes. “ _Right_.”

“No, really.” Zayn persists, pushing off the stage to crowd in behind Louis, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder. “There’s Heather, Julie, just about _every_ girl that crosses your way… _Liam_.”

Louis makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat. He shifts so he turns around, lacing his arms around Zayn’s neck. “Hm? And why are you telling me this, then? Is someone jealous?”

He gives a cocky smirk and Zayn barks out a laugh. Louis gives him a questioning glare and Zayn’s face softens under his gaze. “…Maybe.”

Louis grins and moves his hands down Zayn’s chest then wraps them around his waist. He leans into Zayn’s body, snuggling his face into Zayn’s neck.

“You’ve nothing to worry about, y’know.” Louis tells him, pressing a soft kiss to Zayn’s neck.

“Mm, I’d like to think that.” Zayn replies, running his fingers down Louis’ spine. They stand there for a while, even though Louis must be starving, since having missed breakfast, and Zayn’s about to break away before a voice comes from the doorway.

“Louis?”

Zayn’s eyes shoot open but Louis doesn’t flinch. Flying off completely, Zayn lands at the other side of the room, and Louis startles, falling forwards before catching himself, then looks towards the doorway to whoever said his name.

“Oh, Liam.” Louis replies weakly. Zayn moves to look at Liam, narrowing his eyes on him. “Hi.”

“What, uh,” Liam waves in Louis’ direction, forehead creasing, “What were you doing?”

“Uh…” Louis’ hands come up to the back of his head, scratching idly. “Method acting.” He says with a click of his fingers. “Staying in character, you know how it is.”

“Yeah, of course.” Liam says as he walks more in the room, a small smile on his face now. “Listen, Louis…”

Louis pauses from where he’s about to throw on his backpack. He raises an eyebrow at Liam. He hasn’t spoken to Louis like this ever since they were seeing each other, there were only the small talks they’d have at meetings or if they bumped into each other in the hallways. Now, Liam looks fairly serious and… nervous?

Zayn flies closer.

“I—you know how everyone talks a lot in the staff room,” He begins, letting out a small laugh.

“Yeah,” Louis laughs, too, a bit forced and also a little nervous, “Mostly Heather, innit?”

“Mostly, yeah.” Liam smiles at him and steps in closer. “Well, I’ve heard that, like, you’ve been fairly single, you know, like, not seeing anyone?”

Louis looks taken aback from the direction of this conversation and edges back a tiny bit, blinking. He waits for Liam to continue. Zayn observes closely.

“So, I was wondering, like… what we had was pretty nice, wouldn’t you say?” Liam’s not really looking at Louis, his eyes trailing from his shoes, to his hands, to around the room, “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you.” He lets out another weak laugh, “So, if you wanted to, would you consider, like, doing it again? We could go out for lunch today—“

“I actually am seeing someone.” Louis blurts out. “Sorry.”

Zayn doesn’t cover up the grin that spreads on his face.

Liam takes a second to process what Louis’ said. He meets Louis’ eyes, and he blinks twice before frowning.

“What? But everyone—“

“Been seeing him for a while,” Louis elaborates, bracing himself against the chair in which his backpack’s still situated. “Since after I stayed at yours, actually.”

“Oh.” Liam glances down, “Uh, I didn’t… do I know him?”

“No.” Louis looks at Zayn, giving him a sort of pained look, then looks back at Liam sheepishly, “Nobody does, really.”

“I’ve never seen you with anyone.” Liam says, sort of accusingly. Louis starts to frown.

“That’s because you only see me at work, Liam.” He shoots back. Liam goes to say something but pauses and shuts his mouth. Louis lets out a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be single anytime soon, so.” He shrugs, “We can still be friends, though, yeah?”

Liam gives him a small smile. “Yeah, sure. Maybe I could even meet him one day.” He rocks back and forth on his feet slowly. “What’s his name, anyway?”

“Zayn.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Oh. Nice name.”

Louis looks around the room, “Yeah.” He says. The whole room feels awkward now. Zayn wishes he could just fly Louis out of here without it looking weird.

“Well,” Louis says, a different tone now, seeming to have read Zayn’s mind. He throws on his backpack, “I’m gonna, uh, go have lunch, now.”

“Right.” Liam nods, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket, “I’m… alright, uh, I’ll see you ‘round, then, Lou.”

“Sure will.” Louis flashes him a smile, then begins to walk out of the room.

Zayn flies passed to meet up with him and freezes, looking back to find Liam eyeing the room and touching his hair that must have picked up when the breeze touched it. Luckily, Liam doesn’t seem to think about it too much, possibly already trying to get over Louis’ rejection.

He sort of feels sympathy for Liam, knowing how terribly Louis’ rejection can have an impact.

“Where’d you want to go? Your choice.” Louis says when they’re out of the building. They both seem to not mention the fact that he told someone that wasn’t a close friend that he had a boyfriend.

The realization puts an ugly feeling within Zayn, despite the fact that it should make him feel overjoyed. But it’s that primary problem, that nobody can see him, nobody knows who Louis loves.

“The lake?” Zayn suggests, taking a hold of Louis’ hand.

“Okay,” Louis says with a smile, then stretches out his arms, standing in front of him, “Take me there.”

During lunch, they don’t talk much. In fact, Louis seems more interested in Zayn than his food. He’s got a hold of Zayn’s arm, turning it and running his fingers up and down his skin. He moves up to Zayn’s shoulder, then all the way back down again.

He leaves it for a minute, eats for a minute, then goes back to Zayn.

“Your skin is so pretty,” Louis tells him eventually, hands now stroking Zayn’s face, his cheeks. “I could stare at you forever.”

Zayn automatically takes Louis’ hands away, grabbing them with his own. “I’d prefer yours.” He says, nodding, “Would rather that, definitely.”

He looks down at their joined hands, Zayn’s shining and glowing, Louis’ plain and scarred at some places. Human.

Louis narrows his eyes at Zayn’s skeptically. He doesn’t say anything, just hums once and pulls out of Zayn’s grasp before returning back to his lunch. Zayn feels like running his hands down his own face, but for a different reason.

*

The next day, Louis’ trapped in a meeting with the rest of the staff for their lunch break instead. Zayn tries to linger around the room, trying to entertain himself, even floats around the school for a little bit, but everything’s just so _boring_. He thought he’d be used to it, considering all of the time he spent alone and doing nothing but observing the same people—but now that he’s not alone anymore he feels as though he’d be able to spend his time a little better.

“Hey, Lou?” Zayn whispers as he floats down next to Louis’ side.

Louis looks as bored as Zayn feels—hand on his chin, blinking his eyes open with difficulty of staying awake—he turns to Zayn and responds by raising a brow.

“I’m gonna fly over to Nick and Harry’s for a bit, alright?” Zayn tells him. He half expects Louis to become fully awake and shake his head profusely at the idea. Instead, his tiredness seems to dim his emotions and he nods sleepily, shrugging a little. “Okay, just say my name if you need me, then.”

He presses a quick kiss to Louis’ temple, then makes his way to Nick and Harry’s.

*

Once there, Zayn knocks on the door. He can see Harry’s car parked in the driveway and can hear the television on inside, so they’re definitely home.

Zayn knocks again. He waits a few seconds, until he hears Harry from the couch.

“Nick, could you see who that is?”

Zayn hears footsteps come closer to the door, a pause, then, “S’nobody, must be those bloody knick-knockers.”

Zayn barks out a laugh and flies into the house anyway. “Asshole.” He says playfully as he crosses Nick and sits down on the spare chair in front of the television. “What’re we watching, then?”

Nick returns back to his position on the couch and cuddles closer to Harry, putting his head on his shoulder. A few seconds pass and Zayn starts to frown.

“Nick.” He repeats. Maybe he didn’t hear him the first time.

Suddenly, Nick laughs. Not at Zayn, not because of a prank he was pulling, no. But because of what happened in the movie or show or _whatever_ they’re watching. Harry smiles, too, and Nick looks like he doesn’t even know that Zayn’s in the room.

“Nick?” Zayn tries again, this time his voice breaks at the end of his name. His frown lets up and he flies over in front of the television. Maybe Nick’s just being difficult.

But now, with Zayn directly in front of him, Nick’s eyes don’t falter. It’s like he’s seeing right through him. Like Zayn’s invisible.

“Jesus Christ…” Zayn breathes at the realization. “Nick!”

He flies closer, almost touching him. He looks at Nick, his glow’s disappeared, his eyes look fuller, more alive. He’s human.

Zayn swallows. He reaches out his hand to touch Nick on his arm, skin on skin, and Nick flinches away dramatically.

“What the fuck?” Nick touches his hand to where Zayn had touched, his face completely bewildered.

“What? What?” Harry asks him, frowning deeply, worry in his words. “What is it?”

“Something, like, something fucking _freezing_ just touched me.” He spits out, and then looks up towards the ceiling as though it might have been rain through a crack in the roof. God, he has no idea.

“It’s _me_ , you idiot.” Zayn says, fondly, despite knowing Nick can’t hear him.

Harry seems to consider Nick’s words, then turns to him, “Are you sure Zayn’s not here? He’s freezing whenever he touches me.”

Nick shakes his head immediately, then laughs softly, “No way, he’s never been able to hold his breath this long.”

He says it as though Zayn’s _choosing_ not to be seen.

Harry laughs in agreement, “He’s no competition to you, then.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Zayn sighs, rolling his eyes. He goes over to Harry and presses his hand on the front of Harry’s crotch, like he usually does whenever he wants to freak him out.

Harry instantly gasps in realization and shock at the touch, then turns to Nick. “No, that’s—Nick, Zayn’s definitely here.”

Nick firstly looks at Harry oddly, scrunching up his face. “What? But I can’t—“ The hand that’s touching his arm catches his eye and he looks at it for a few moments before his eyes start to get wet. He returns his gaze back to Harry, grinning wildly, “Harry, holy shit, Harry.”

Harry takes one real look at Nick, at his expression, at his everything, and his mouth completely drops open. “You’re—“

“I’m human!”

Zayn watches them hug. They move side to side together, tears spilling on both of their cheeks, their faces buried into one another’s necks, a hold so tight it doesn’t look like they’ll be letting go anytime soon. Zayn has to sniff back a few tears of his own.

Nick’s human. His transition is complete. Which means, if time is an aspect to consider, Zayn shouldn’t be too far behind. The thought itself is enough to make Zayn fly the fastest he’s ever gone to tell Louis the good news.

*

When Louis finds out, the first thing he demands is a celebration.

“We’re going over there tonight.” Louis says, not even considering if they’ve got plans of their own.

“Shouldn’t we, like, confirm with them first?” Zayn suggests, walking into the apartment after Louis.

Louis scoffs, “Nick just turned _human_.” He says it, as though that’s a perfect reason for them to barge into their house without notice. Zayn actually can’t disagree with it. “They’ll expect us to come over, anyway.”

“Is that a good thing, then? That Nick’s human?”

He’s saying it before he can stop himself. The words come out and they already float in the air, stilling it. Louis pauses from where he’s situated at the fridge, looking for a snack. He turns to Zayn and gives him a perplexed gaze.

“Of course it’s a good thing.” He responds, brows turning inwardly, tilting his head to one side. “Why? You don’t think it is?”

“No, I do.” Zayn replies quickly. Louis’ waiting for him to elaborate. The thought of Louis thinking that Zayn doesn’t see being human as a good thing itches at his skin. “It’s just—uh. Nick… He can’t see me anymore.”

Zayn avoids Louis’ eyes. It was a good cover-up but only just.

“What do you mean?” Louis asks. Zayn looks at him and a second later Louis’ face changes. He shuts the fridge and his eyes turn sympathetic as he starts to walk over to him. “Oh, of course. Because he’s alive again he won’t be able to see any ghosts, would he?” Louis wraps a comforting arm around Zayn and Zayn leans into it instantly. “Aw, babe. You’ll get there soon. It’s not as if he’s forgotten your entire existence.”

“Yeah,” Zayn responds softly. A clench in his stomach lets him remind himself of the period in which he was trying to disappear forever so that Louis _would_ forget Zayn’s entire existence. Louis still doesn’t know of that; Zayn doesn’t plan on telling him, either.

“Should we get going, then?” Louis says cheerfully, grinning to Zayn, something he does whenever Zayn’s feeling under the weather. Zayn thinks he does it because Louis assumes his smile is contagious.

It would be a lie if Zayn said Louis wasn’t completely right.

“I know Harry has an ancient bottle of wine in his house that he hasn’t opened yet.” Louis comments, throwing on a new jacket and scarf that he once left on the coffee table. “Keen to get my mouth on it, to be honest.”

“Planning on getting as drunk as you were at Niall’s, then?” Zayn questions, making sure his voice comes out as light as possible.

Thankfully, Louis lets out a laugh, “Wasn’t _that_ bad was I?”

“Lou, you threw up three times the morning after.” Zayn points out. He feels as though this would be the perfect occasion to bring up a certain statement that has been playing over and over in his mind. For one sole reason, though, he lets it slide.

“Alright, Sober Man.” Louis says, pushing at Zayn’s shoulder lightly, “How ‘bout when you turn human, we’ll get you so completely drunk that you’ll pass out somewhere and not have any clue of where you are when you wake up. And you’ll have the largest headache of your life.”

“Sounds terrible.” Zayn says, but he says it with a grin. The mention of “turning human” puts a gleeful tune in his mind.

They end up at Nick and Harry’s doorstep fifteen minutes later. Louis knocks and the door opens almost straight away. Which is weird, since there’s usually a lot of commotion inside before either one of them bothers to do anything about the people at the door.

It’s also weird because this time Nick answers the door. He opens it with an eager expression, making sure his entire body shows. He’s a human; it’s obvious in every part of him. A spark of jealousy shoots through Zayn’s spine.

“Hi, I’m Nick! Harry’s—oh!” Nick, as though startled from autopilot, steps back a little. He blinks a few times, registering Louis. Louis’ doing the same, staring in complete awe from finally seeing the face that belongs to the name.

“Nick! Look at you!” Louis says, stepping back to get a better look as he gestures towards him. “You’re…” He pauses for a second, “A bit older, than I expected.”

Nick scoffs but there’s a smirk behind it, “Careful now, I’ve been watching you from afar, remember. I know every dirty little secret.”

Louis mock-gasps, “You do not!”

“Nick, who is it?” Harry’s faint voice is heard and Zayn finds himself exhaling a breath in relief. He didn’t take into account that he’s now invisible to the majority of the people he’ll be spending time with.

Maybe if Harry’s in the picture he and Nick will be distracted with each other and Louis will be distracted with Zayn again. Fuck, he really needs to be alive.

“It’s Louis!” Nick calls back.

Zayn frowns.

“Zayn’s here, too. You can’t see him but he’s right next to me.” Louis points out.

When Nick turns back around to face them, his expression drops at the words. His eyes turn sad and he starts to look for any sign of Zayn, anyway. He knows how Nick feels, and Nick knows how Zayn feels, since he was in the exact same position when his friend Maria turned. Nick opens his mouth to say something but Zayn already answers the question that he was about to ask by resting his hand on Nick’s cheek.

“Oh, there you are.” Nick exhales, his lips tugging up into a smile. “Hey, Zayn.”

“Hey,” Zayn whispers back. Louis reaches for Zayn’s hand and links them together.

A second passes and Nick’s looking at Zayn but not really, his eyes sort of zoning out. Zayn wonders what he’s thinking, if the realization that he actually _is_ human, that he will no longer—ever—be a ghost again, has finally sunk in.

“So, are you going to let them in, Nicholas?” Harry’s voice returns, and then he makes an appearance, standing next to Nick. “Or are we denying them access into our house for the first time ever?”

Nick comes back at the sound of Harry’s voice, his smile subconsciously growing bigger. “Well, Harold, I _am_ visible now. I can actually have a say!”

Louis barks out a laugh, throwing his head back, then shakes his head at Nick before pushing passed him. He launches himself at Harry, wrapping his arms around him in a hug that Harry graciously accepts. Zayn floats in, sitting down on one of the chairs in the lounge room.

He watches on from where the three of them talk about how Nick feels, what the transition is like, what he’s been doing since he turned mortal, absolutely everything. Nick talks with an ever-present glow. Something different than Zayn’s, of course, but more similar to Louis’. He talks with a smile, his eyes twinkling, over-joyed. Harry’s beaming, too, but that’s nothing new.

Louis seems so, _so_ interested. They’re all standing, Louis with his stance leaning backwards, almost. His legs apart from each other, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, his eyes completely focused on what Nick’s saying, nodding along to virtually every word.

To be fair, Zayn should be just as interested, if not more. But something huge inside him, like the weight of a bowling ball, brings him down. He feels flat all over, his body feeling like dead weight. Not ghost-dead but… _dead_ dead.

After Nick finishes his sentence, Louis looks around the room until his eyes lock onto Zayn’s. He frowns noticeably as soon as he sees Zayn sitting on a chair away from them. He looks briefly back to Harry and Nick, finding them in their own conversation, then makes his way over to Zayn.

He sits down on his lap side-ways, linking his arms around Zayn’s neck and looking at him like he’s injured. Zayn forces a smile but there’s no point in trying to fake it, he’s nowhere near as dramatic and believable as Louis.

“Something wrong, babe?” He asks softly, only for them to hear.

Zayn doesn’t realize the huge breath he releases until he feels how much his chest deflates.

“Just, like, invisible again, aren’t I?” He says, because that’s all he can think of.

He doesn’t know _why_ he’s feeling the way he is, really. He’s usually never this moody because of something as little as this. He _will_ become human, and soon, by the looks of it. Maybe it’s a build-up of the ever-present thought that refuses to escape his mind.

“ _Zayn, I want to be a ghost_.”

So innocent, so unintentionally oblivious, so flippant.

He looks at Louis at where he is now, settled on his lap, looking at him like Zayn’s a hurt puppy, feeding his fingers through his hair. Zayn thinks about bringing it up, just getting it off his chest, out of his head, clearing the air.

But what does one say in a situation like this—“ _Do you remember telling me you wanted to die_?”—No thank you.

Maybe Louis does remember saying it but he doesn’t bring it up because he’s praying that Zayn doesn’t remember. Maybe he’s embarrassed, like a, _oh god, I can’t believe I said that_ , kind of embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t mean it at all, since he was entirely intoxicated, and was probably just saying every single thing that came to his head. There might have not been any depth behind it, like an airy sentence he said just for the sake of saying it. Maybe—

“—Ayn?”

Zayn blinks at the sound of his name. He looks at Louis, who’s obviously been talking to him during his thoughts.

“Sorry, uh.” Zayn begins, and starts to ask Louis what he said before he’s cut off.

“Hey,” He says, voice filled with nothing but pure concern, his soft hand coming up to rest gently on Zayn’s jaw, his cheek. “Are you sure you want to be here? We can go home, if you want.”

Zayn shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. I think I’m just tired, too.”

“Hm, okay.” Louis says, and presses a kiss to Zayn’s forehead. “Well, what I said before was that we’re going outside. Harry has, like, sparklers or something.”

They exit out onto the small decking their house has in the backyard as the sky starts to dim. Harry’s got a packet of sparklers in his hand and he’s grinning like a maniac, Nick directly beside him.

“Everyone takes one each!” Harry announces, then proceeds to go to Louis and Nick, holding out the box. Louis takes two and Harry’s about to scowl at him before he catches Louis giving one of them to Zayn. “Okay,” Harry says as he’s put the packet down, his own sparkler in his hand. “I’ll light mine and then you all light yours, like, from mine. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, Styles. Now make your speech.” Louis says with a smile. Zayn fiddles with the sparkler. He spots Nick staring at it, must look weird seeing an object floating around in thin air.

“ _Alright_ , Tomlinson.” Harry emphasizes, eyeing him off. They both crack into a smile and then Harry stands up straight, clears his throat, and wraps an arm around Nick’s shoulder. “As you all know, Nick and I have waited a very long moment for this day to arrive. I’ve known him for ages, but have only recently, since early last year, gotten to _really_ know him. Nick, as you also all know, is one of the best people I’ve ever met and I’m so glad that now I get to take him places and that he can meet everyone I know and we can actually be _together_ , for once.” He turns to Nick and pecks him sweetly on the cheek. “I’m so happy you’re alive.” He holds up his sparkler and lights it. “To Nick!”

“To Nick!” Louis and Zayn echo, raising their own sparklers to Harry’s until they catch on, too.

The four of them stand in a sort of uneven circle, sparklers crackling and shooting off sparks here and there, bright in the darkening sky. Harry waves his around crazily, Nick tries darting it backwards and forwards really fast to make the spark disappear and Louis keeps drawing his name in the sky. Zayn’s sort of only entirely interested in the way the sparks dance around the thin stick. It’s bright and somehow dangerous but so beautiful.

In a weird, poetic way, it’s somehow the way Louis looked when Zayn first saw him. So alluring, but so, so treacherous to touch.

Eventually the sparklers all die out and nothing’s left but the grey sticks in their hands. They sort of all stand there in silence once it happens, everyone’s fun cancelled from the dwindling fire. He finds Harry frowning at it, disappointed in how quickly it ended.

It doesn’t last long, though, because then he’s looking up with raised eyebrows, his hands placed on his hips. “Well, then. Should we crack open the wine?”

*

Evidently, Nick finds Zayn later on in the night. He finds him because Zayn accidentally bumps into one of the ceiling hanging lights in the kitchen as he flies over the bench. Nick, Harry and Louis are all drinking, hanging around the kitchen and talking about things that Zayn zones in and out of.

As soon as Zayn touches the light, Nick looks up.

“There you are,” Nick says for the second time that day, “Get down here, you loser.”

Zayn obeys and floats down beside him. Nick’s still looking upwards, so Zayn touches his arm, telling him he’s down. Nick doesn’t startle, just looks in the general direction of where he assumes Zayn is. At least his gaze is more accurate than Niall’s.

“Meet me outside, okay?” Nick says, then leaves the kitchen.

Zayn flies over him, something that Nick can probably feel, and lands on the decking before Nick opens the door.

“Zayn?” He says once he shuts the door behind him. He touches Nick. “Fly me to the roof?”

The request has him looking at Nick oddly, frowning with his head jerked back. Until he realizes that, right, Nick’s not able to fly up there himself anymore.

Zayn stands behind him, the same way he does with Louis, and wraps his arms around Nick’s chest. He feels Nick inhale a sharp breath at the contact that must be undoubtedly cold. He counts down to three, and then he’s flying.

They land softly on the roof—the place where Nick and Zayn have meet more often then not. They’ve had their deepest and most important conversations up on this roof. Zayn vaguely wonders what’ll happen when he turns, where their next spot will end up being once they’re both unable to fly.

“Thanks for that.” Nick says, sitting down in his usual position. Zayn lies down next to him. “You know, I wonder if you had never came over, like, how long it would’ve taken Harry and I to realize that I’m no longer a ghost.” He lets out a weak laugh. “How long did you stay, by the way?”

Not two seconds pass before Nick registers that Zayn has no way of being able to respond.

“Oh. Right.” He’s quiet for a few moments, like he’s embarrassed of talking to himself, almost. He recovers quickly though, and lets out a sigh. “It’s weird, if you’re wondering. You know, this morning I went to fly out of the house to collect the paper like I do every morning, but I couldn’t lift my feet off the ground. Then I walked outside instead and a girl that lives across the road spotted me and squealed. That’s when it proceeded that I was butt naked.”

Zayn laughs loudly, hands folded and relaxed on top of his belly, eyes towards the sky.

“But seriously, I can’t even describe how it feels, Zayn.” Nick sighs again, but this time in happiness. “It’s like all the numbness you didn’t know you were experiencing suddenly leaves you, and you feel _everything_. People notice you, too. I think that’s the hardest thing to grasp. Like, all the attention.”

Zayn nods along, agreeing. He can imagine the complicated process of suddenly having everybody notice him. After being ignored for so long, he couldn’t imagine having eyes on him, actually acknowledging his existence.

“I’m still not used to it, like, I thought any recollection of being a ghost would somehow be replaced with being human again? I’m not sure. But it’s cool, man. I can’t wait for you to turn human, it’ll be the best.”

“I can’t wait.” Zayn says, shutting his eyes. He knows the words drift off into the night air but he doesn’t care. Nick’s still talking to him despite him having any idea of where he is. It makes him feel not so alone.

*

A week later and Zayn’s still not human. He watches from the bed as Louis fumbles around the room getting ready for work. He’s huffing and puffing, sorting through shirts and fiddling with his hair. Usually, Zayn would be up, too. He’d be making Louis’ tea or lunch or helping Louis get himself organized.

The last few days, though, he’s fallen in the habit of staying right where he is.

“Could help me, you know.” Louis finally says one day as he’s searching through the top drawer of their dresser, trying to find a clean pair of socks.

Zayn gets out of bed and exits the room. He can feel Louis’ eyes on him but he doesn’t turn to it. Instead, he enters the hallway that leads into the bathroom and picks up the washing hamper beside it, filled with Louis’ clean clothes.

He enters the room again, finding Louis standing there in odd socks in front of the full-length mirror fixing up his tie. They lock eyes in the mirror and Louis shifts his gaze to the hamper, his expression turning sheepish. Zayn places it down next to him, then makes his way towards the bed again.

“What’s it like to be invisible to everyone else? I’d love it, I think.” Louis says, sifting through the clothes. He’s talking idly, comfortably, but Zayn’s suddenly on red alert. “Having nobody see what you look like, stealing anything you like, pranking people you don’t like…”

“It’s terrible, actually. Boring and upsetting.” Zayn counteracts instantly, meeting Louis’ eye when he stops what he’s doing to look up at him.

They stare at each other for a moment. Zayn can see the quizzical look on Louis’ face, like his mind’s ticking over, trying to figure something out. Eventually, he stands up, forgetting the hamper and his routine completely, and sits down on the bed in front of Zayn.

“So, are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you or will I just have to sit here all day and force it out?”

Zayn shrugs, “Nothing’s wrong.”

He knows it was a useless move, but it was worth a try.

“You’ve legitimately been so negative this past… what, two and a half weeks?” Louis estimates. Zayn shrugs again. Louis pauses for a moment, drops his eyes and lets out a soft sigh. “What do you want to do, Zayn? You wanna go back to Doncaster or something? Because that’s where this all started.”

His voice is almost hurt. Like Zayn’s sadness reflects on his own mood. He hates it when Louis looks like this, like it’s his entire fault. But it’s been brought up now, hasn’t it? Zayn, really, has no other choice.

“Did you want to talk about it after work? You’re already late—“

“It can wait.” Louis replies, shifting so he’s sitting directly in front, already listening intently.

Zayn exhales, looks everywhere in the room except for Louis. He lands his gaze on his hands that are fiddling together.

“At Niall’s party, when you were drunk, you…said something.”

At that, Louis snorts, “Zayn, if there’s one thing you should know, my mind goes ridiculously kinky when I’m drunk, so if I proposed anything to you that you’re nervous about—“

“No, Lou.” Zayn says, not sure whether to laugh or not. He’ll keep that fact locked away in his mind for later, though. “It was, uh, something a little more serious than that.”

“Oh.” Louis frowns. “Okay. What was it, then?”

Zayn swallows. “You told me that, for your anniversary present, you wanted to become a ghost.”

Louis’ reaction is minimum. His face doesn’t change expression and he doesn’t say a word, but his eyes drift from Zayn’s and it’s obvious that he’s not shocked about it. Something ugly curdles in Zayn’s stomach.

The room becomes deathly quiet. Zayn decides to elaborate.

“I—you _know_ how I became one, so why would you want to do that?”

“I guess I just thought that, like, things would be easier that way? It’s been a year, you know, and I think I… Like, instead of you becoming human, we could both be ghosts. You could introduce me to your ghost friends.” Louis explains, fumbling over his words. At the last part, Louis fakes a smile.

“Well, you can’t become one.” Zayn says, probably with more force than he intended.

It makes Louis blink, his head jerking backwards a little. “And why not?”

“ _Because_!” Zayn frowns, raising his voice. The question hits something sensitive within him, like Louis has to argue his point, his desire to be dead. “There isn’t a way of knowing whether or not you’ll even _be_ a ghost, Louis.”

Louis swallows, then crosses his arms over his chest and sticks out his chin. “You turned into one."

Zayn stands up from the bed and sighs in frustration as he feeds his fingers into his hair. “We’ve been over this. My family didn’t stay as ghosts because they didn’t _need_ to stay. I did.”

Louis drops his arms along with his eyes; he suddenly looks so much smaller like this.

“Because you had to stay with me, right?” He says, almost a whisper.

“Exactly.”

“Well…” Louis darts his tongue out to lick his lips, then looks back up at Zayn. “If that’s the case then I’ll have to stay with you.”

“Louis.” Zayn growls. _Growls_. Louis stills at it. “You’re not dying. I’m not letting you.”

Nothing else is said and the rigidity of the room makes him realize how hot his cheeks are burning. He doesn’t think he’s ever had to raise his voice at Louis. He instantly wishes he hadn’t, but the topic of conversation seemed to have unleashed everything he’s been suppressing about it.

To occupy himself, he packs away Louis’ clothes from the hamper, setting aside a pair of socks for him. He can feel Louis’ eyes on him and Zayn wants to ask him why he’s not rushing to work, before Louis starts to talk.

“You know when we were at the orphanage, when we were speaking with Anne? I almost introduced you.” He says, softly. He’s looking into space now, not really focused on anything, just letting his words come as they do. “That happens so often, you know, in my head. When other teachers go on about their marriages and their partners, they always ask me if I’m seeing someone. God, Valentine’s Day was the worst, remember that? And it sucks because if I say no, then you know what they’re thinking, like, oh, he’s getting older and he’s still single, poor thing. But, like, if I say yes, like I did with Liam, then the questions about you flood in. Like, when can I see him? What does he look like? Do you have a photo? And it sucks, you know? I just—I’d rather be with you, like _actually_ be with you, than to be human and unable to have a normal relationship with you.” He heaves out a sigh. “I don’t know, I think I thought that if I became a ghost then we’d be infinite together, and I _really_ liked the idea of that.”

Zayn swallows deeply. Any lingering sensation of anger or frustration disperses and he feels light again. 

Without saying a word, he simply joins Louis on the bed and wraps his arms around him. Louis falls into it easily, his face nuzzling into Zayn’s neck.

*

Everything seems to mellow out after that. Zayn eventually tells Louis that it won’t be long until what they both inevitably want will happen. It’s a bit unreal to know that it’s becoming sooner and sooner until Zayn will be able to walk down the streets as a person, have conversations with other people and actually be apart of the world that he once lived in so many years ago.

If put into perspective, the moment he turns human will be the beginning of his third life. His afterlife. The life after death. He wonders how many get this type of privilege, this opportunity. He quickly summarizes not many at all.

They don’t talk about it for three days. Half because the anticipation is too extreme to even put into words and the other half because their suspicion of mentioning it too often will delay the process itself. It’s sort of like Louis’ need to touch wood whenever anyone says anything detrimental about someone on a whim.

They don’t talk about it for three days, because on the third day—the day of their anniversary—something goes terribly wrong.

On the morning of the third day, a Saturday, they made plans the night before to visit the beach they went all those months ago. It’s Louis’ idea, of course, claiming that he’s missed it ever since they left.

Zayn obliges without any arguments. He sort of misses it, too. It’s also a good present for both of them, in a way.

He rolls over in bed, faces Louis, and puts a strand of Louis’ fringe behind his ear to get a better look at him. Louis stirs, and then opens his eyes, his lips turning into a soft smile.

“Morning,” He says, voice croaky and hardly audible.

“Morning,” Zayn replies, shuffling closer to lace an arm around Louis’ middle, and presses a kiss to Louis’ mouth, “Happy one year, babe.”

They decide to leave early, so they can spend more time during the day on the sand and in the water. Louis packs his essentials and they head out towards the hills, back where nobody can see.

They stand in their usual positions, Louis holding his bag, Zayn holding Louis. The sky looks like a nice day, blue skies with only a few clouds hovering over them, the sun already beaming on Zayn’s back.

He pauses before lifting off—he likes that phrase _lifting off_ , it’s as though he’s a plane or a rocket ready to take off, like he’s going to the moon—he pauses and takes a moment to admire Louis, like he doesn’t do it everyday. He’s a little tired, Louis is, since he’s definitely not a morning person at all, something they have in common. His hair’s a bit of a mess, tuffs of hair going in all sorts of directions at the back of his head. Zayn smiles when he looks at Louis’ little ears, uncovered by Louis’ hair, and he sort of wants to bite them. He looks at his neck instead, and watches as his shoulders rise and fall softly as he breathes.

He sneaks in a kiss on Louis’ neck and Louis flinches away like he knew he would, ticklish.

“Hey,” Louis pouts, annoyed at the fact that he fell for it. “I thought we made a tickling truce.”

“It’s only a one-way truce, though, isn’t it?” Zayn replies, grinning, “You know, considering I’m not ticklish at all.”

Louis raises his eyebrows, and then disguises the next word in coughs, “Feet.”

Zayn’s eyes widen, “How’d you know that?”

A shrug. “You laugh when you sleep.”

For that, Zayn litters Louis’ body with his fingers, attacking him everywhere he knows triggers Louis the most. He doesn’t stop until Louis’ a squirming mess in his hands, tears threatening the sides of his eyes as his laughter and squeals come out loud enough to possibly wake up the whole neighborhood.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Louis says as he smoothens out his shirt and collects himself.

Zayn doesn’t say anything back, just flashes him a satisfying smile and kisses him on the cheek sweetly.

Eventually, they start flying.

Wind whips passed his skin, his hair that’s now growing and falling close to his shoulders flows back as he flies fast, breaking the air. Louis’ pressed close to his chest, holding onto Zayn’s arms as they wrap tightly around him.

They’ve been flying almost every day for a year now, and Louis seems to be exhilarated from it regardless of how many times they’ve been up in the air.

They don’t talk about it for three days, because on the third day, when they start to fall, nothing makes sense.

Zayn notices the problem as soon as it starts. It happens within him first, a sort of switch that turns off whatever is able to make him fly. It’s familiar, since it happened when they were in the bedroom. This time he assumes it’s only temporary, like a bird when it dips slightly in the air before it returns to its regular height after it’s just jumped out of its nest. Though, when Zayn tries to lift them both up higher into the air, nothing happens.

The air is whipping passed him but this time it’s from the speed of falling. The ground’s looking closer and they’re beginning to dip head first towards it and Louis’ fingernails are digging into Zayn’s arms for dear life and Zayn tries with all his might to slow down but nothing works.

Darkness fills his mind instantly. Something foul is felt in his mouth and his stomach drops faster then them both.

He looks around frantically, head jerking everywhere to try to find anything, anyone that could save them. Mere seconds away from the ground and there’s nothing in sight except for trees and grass and boulders.

He does the one thing he can think of and flips them over before hitting the ground.

The pain is agonising. The impact shoots through his spine and he lets out a loud yelp. His head smashed into the ground and because of the impact, it makes him let go of Louis. It might have also been the sudden force of flying and crashing, but Zayn blames himself, of course he does.

It feels like his backs broken, all of his bones bruised, his skull cracked open—but he’s not injured at all.

It was like someone jumping off a twenty-story building, yet Zayn’s still alive.

Louis, however…

He picks his head up rapidly as soon as he notices the weight that was once on him isn’t there anymore. He looks around for twenty milliseconds too long and spots Louis a few feet away from him, covered in dirt and grass, only stopped because a boulder at the bottom of the hill they landed on.

“Louis,” Zayn whispers harshly to himself. He wants to reverse this whole day, tell Louis he can’t be bothered going to the beach, tell him to wait another day, tell him maybe they could take a bus instead.

Zayn’s next to him before he can even work out how his legs are still working. He doesn’t check Louis, knows that whatever has happened, he can’t fix on his own. From the outside, he can see Louis’ forehead bleeding as well as his nose. His limbs don’t look too well, either, and his clothes are torn.

“Louis,” Zayn says, his throat already choking up. He brushes the hair out of Louis’ eyes. “Louis, wake up."

He’s still breathing, but he’s unconscious. He feels so heavy in his arms and Zayn wants to cry. Instead, he holds it back and places Louis down softly on a thick patch of grass, making sure to be especially delicate with his head.

From there, Zayn steps a few feet away, steps on the small boulder, then attempts to fly again. When he does it without struggle, he doesn’t know whether to scream or cry of joy.

It’s particularly frustrating, now. If Zayn’s not human then _why_ would that make his flying stop?

But it’s also a gift as well as a curse, that he’s still a ghost. He holds Louis firmly in his arms again and picks them both up from the ground, flying—as quick as he’s ever flown—towards the nearest hospital. 

*

He lands out the front of the hospital, stumbling onto the ground despite his previous record of landing gently. His minds definitely not in the right headspace, his entire soul feels off, like spoilt food. Louis’ weak in his arms and it’s his fault.

“Shit, mate, you alright?”

Zayn’s head snaps to where a middle-aged man is approaching questionably, concern written on his face and heard in his voice. His arm is extended out, cautiously, waiting for Louis’ response to advance on him and to help him out.

The initial thought in Zayn’s head is to tug Louis away, get him away from any strangers; he knows how terrible the world can be. But he also understands that nobody will be able to see Zayn or hear him, he can hardly carry him into the hospital and leave him on the front desk.

They’ll see this man, though. This stranger who’s already taking another step forwards.

Zayn looks him up and down; he’s wearing a suit, his hair slicked back neatly. He’s got a phone in his hand and Zayn assumes he was there waiting for a taxi, as though he just came out of visiting somebody in the hospital.

Zayn looks at Louis, still looking completely unresponsive. He looks away, the pain too much in his chest from the sight. Others must view him as unstable and injured, wobbling as though he was drunk, unable to hold himself up.

Zayn already wants to cry, wants to rewind time so badly. Maybe he could’ve dug his heels onto the ground when they fell from the sky, maybe he could’ve slowed down the process, let the pain hit him and only him, having Louis still conscious and entirely uninjured.

Instead, Louis’ got a gash on his forehead, a busted lip, bruised arms, and god knows what’s wrong internally. Zayn gnaws at the inside of his cheek.

The man’s still waiting, arm reached out. He’s looking from Louis to the hospital, probably trying to find someone in there to help him. “Do you need help, sir?”

Delicately and slowly, Zayn takes a step with Louis towards the man. The stranger watches carefully, another arm shooting out to catch Louis if he falls. Zayn rests him on the man’s shoulder and he catches him with a shocked expression and a gasp.

“Oh! Jesus, alright.” The man breathes out, hitching Louis up so he’s standing. Louis’ head lolls backwards and Zayn squeezes his eyes closed. “Let’s get you in.”

The man wastes no time and carries all of Louis’ weight inside the hospital. When they enter and the glass doors slide closed, Zayn finds himself wiping away a tear that he didn’t know was there.

He floats in after the pair, watching as nurses immediately take Louis in and then start to ask the man questions. His body language shows that he’s telling them nothing, since he doesn’t know a thing about Louis or why he’s hurt. Zayn feels his throat begin to close up.

Moving passed the man, Zayn trails closely behind Louis who’s now one of the beds. The nurses are hurriedly pushing him through doors and corridors. Zayn keeps his head down, guilt over-riding him like nothing else. Like a disease. 

Everyone’s helping Louis except for him. It’s complicated but the realisation of that hurts him, like he’s a foul person to even be in Louis’ presence, for having caused him this much pain and hassle.

They enter a room filled with surgery tools and white everything, a room so clean it makes Louis stand out more than ever. He’s being stripped from his clothes, some of the fabric becoming stuck on the open wounds. The skin underneath his clothes almost makes Zayn spill out a sob. He’s bruised, his arms and his ribs, his _ribs_. They look the most wounded. One of his knees have a worse cut than the one above his eyebrow, it’s dripping down his legs, his jeans completely stained from it.

The surgeons are quick to work, patting him down and cleaning him up. They hook him up with tubes and monitors, one where Zayn can see the patterns of Louis’ heartbeat.

Then something happens, something unexpected and… _painful_.

It’s like a lightening bolt striking suddenly throughout Zayn’s body. It shakes him from head to toe, his eyes blacking out for a second, like he’s been woken up then put back to sleep, then woken again. It’s like he’s being electrocuted, hurting remarkably, his fists clenching tightly to bare it. He doesn’t even have a chance to question the sudden sensation as he looks down at himself, goose-bumps on his skin, hairs raised and…

And no glow.

“Hey!” A nurse says, looking in his direction. “How did you get in here?”

Zayn glances behind him, looks around the room. The nurse next to the one who spoke is also looking in his direction, both of them frowning.

“How did you get in here, sir?” She repeats, starting to walk towards him.

“You’re—are you—?” Zayn stammers, purely shocked at the human contact he’s receiving. His mind is an entire blur; he’s just turned mortal, apparently, and Louis’ unconscious on a hospital bed.

“Get out!” She orders, shooing him away, firm.

Zayn almost wants to smile, kind of wants to crawl up into a ball and cry, too. He’s _human—_ somethinghe’s wanted to be again since he met Louis—and Louis might not even be alive to see him.

“Sir, are you deaf?” The doctor says to him now, mouth covered by cloth connected by string around his ears. “We need you to leave.”

They want him to leave. The words register slowly in Zayn’s head, yet the room feels like a dream, a nightmare. He doesn’t feel like he’s really here, like he’ll wake up and he’ll be in bed, his arms around Louis, wishing him a happy one year.

He hears someone sigh impatiently, then watches as the nurses and doctor exchange a look. It’s not until Zayn’s eyes land on Louis—so fragile, unmoving—when he feels hands grabbing his shoulders, pushing him out of the room.

Zayn stumbles out in a daze. His feet are quick to catch himself and that’s when he grasps the fact that he’s able to walk amongst other people. He turns back around, his hands slamming on the door that shuts in his face. He wants to protest, wants to start yelling and bash down the door, because he _can_ , now. He’ll be noticed, he’ll be valid, and he can finally go on perfect dates with Louis, get introduced to whoever he meets.

Another second goes by when he realizes Louis’ voice will no longer in Zayn’s head. He won’t be able to hear Louis talk; he won’t hear his conversations, he won’t know when and _if_ he wakes unless somebody working here tells him. It’s frightening.

In the corridor, two chairs are placed against the wall. He sits in one and breathes slowly. _Louis is okay and he will survive_. He repeats it in his head, closing his eyes and making himself believe it as much as he’s able. _Louis is okay and he will survive_. There’s a clock on the wall opposite him, he hears his tick with every second that passes. _Louis is okay and he will survive_.

*

_2:56pm_

Zayn’s hearing is weak. He can’t hear anything except for the people walking passed, the clock ticking and faint noises of the room entering from the corridor. He can’t hear what’s going on in Louis’ room, like he could’ve if he were a ghost. He can’t hear a thing because his hearing has now gone back to how it _was_.

His sight’s weak, too. He can’t see further than the glass door that leads out into the front room, where they entered. The clock is visible and he can see the numbers and the lines but not the scratches on the wood or the chipped paint on the wall until he steps closer to it.

His fingertips touch his skin. There’s no glow, just normal human skin that doesn’t feel like there’s a small, numbing force field around himself. He can feel everything.

He leans back into the chair and rests his head against the wall behind him. He faces upwards, towards the ceiling. The lights are fluorescent and bright so he closes his eyes, which probably isn’t the best idea he’s ever had.

Immediately, flashes of flying fill his mind. At first it’s happy, both of them gliding through the air like two birds finding their way back to their nest. Then, suddenly, the whole world goes dark—Zayn starts falling and Louis starts screaming his name. Another flash, Louis’ away from him, injured and crying.

Zayn startles awake. He looks at the time.

_3:15pm_

The anticipation is killing him. Is Louis okay? Are the doctors doing everything they can? What was injured? Will he walk again? How long will surgery take?

He takes in a deep breath. _Louis is okay and he will survive_.

The wooden seat is starting to become way too hard for him, his bum hurting from sitting on it for nineteen minutes already. He’s tapping the chair with his fingertips impatiently, his foot also tapping loudly on the marbled floor.

He must look like someone crazy, his eyes darting around and not letting a second pass without fidgeting. Truth is, he is crazy. So completely, utterly, entirely crazy because of and _for_ Louis. He wishes he could see him right now; hear him take his first conscious breath when he wakes up.

Zayn swallows deeply. He needs to distract himself, he can’t think about it too long. He’s just become _human_ , for god’s sake. He should be celebrating. He stands up from the chair and moves into the front room, attempting to clear his mind.

_3:22pm_

Looking out the window, he sees the car park almost empty. They must not have many injuries this part of town. Or, they do, and don’t get many visitors. The thought makes him frown.

He’s sipping on a plastic cup filled with water. From his journey of walking out from the corridor, to the water tank, then to the window, he’s sure just about everybody had a glance at him. He’s not sure why, he knows that people look at Louis but only as another person; they register him then look away. With Zayn, it’s like they’re observing every part of him, like he doesn’t belong.

He doesn’t pay them any mind, though. Instead, he focuses on drinking the water and thinking about the things he and Louis can do once he’s out and once he’s better. Maybe they’ll go to the drive-ins, watch Louis’ favorite movie and maybe Zayn can learn to drive beforehand. Maybe they’ll buy a car and travel down to the beach every weekend, stay in the hotel and meet interesting people. Maybe Zayn will get his own job and they’ll finish at the same time of day and have dinner together at public places where people will see Louis _and_ Zayn. Maybe they’ll move out, get a house like Harry and Nick, maybe even a pet. They can get a home like Zayn’s—before it was burnt down and replaced by an apartment building.

The future’s possibilities make him smile.

“Uh, sir?”

The tap on his shoulder makes Zayn jump. The water in his cup spills over his hand and he turns to the voice. It’s alarming, hearing a stranger address him. He’ll get used to it soon, surely.

“Sorry, sorry.” The woman says. She’s dressed in a nurse uniform, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, a clipboard in her hand. She offers him a small smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Uh,” Zayn clears his throat when barely a sound comes out. His throat’s dry from the emotion and lack of use. He straightens himself and returns her smile. “It’s okay,” He glances at her nametag, then widens his smile when he looks at her again, “Sophia.”

Her smile grows, too, somewhat pleasantly surprised, and nods once. “Did you need any help with…?” She gestures aimlessly at Zayn, “Anything?”

Zayn blinks, and then shakes his head once. “No.”

He’d like to see Louis, but he’s definitely sure she can’t help with that.

Her eyebrows start to pull together and Zayn’s beginning to wonder if what he said was the wrong answer. She’s looking at him sort of skeptically and it’s a fair giveaway that Zayn’s social skills aren’t entirely up to scratch.

“I mean, uh,” Zayn quickly says, clearing his throat again. “I’m here with my boyfriend, he’s… he’s in surgery? I think?”

“Oh!” Her eyebrows shoot up, voice going a pitch higher. “Didn’t anyone direct you to the room for waiting family and friends?”

“No, not really.” Zayn shrugs, “They just shooed me out of the room he was in and into the corridor.”

She frowns skeptically and blinks at him. “How did you…?” Her voice trails off and shakes her head. Zayn realizes nobody’s even meant to get into the room Louis’ in at all. He bites his lip. Luckily, she drops the topic. “Okay, follow me.”

Sophia turns around and begins to walk into a different corridor than what Zayn was in before. Zayn’s not sure how he feels about that, being further away from Louis, but he knows it doesn’t matter how close they are anymore, he won’t feel it either way.

She leads him into a fairly large room where two other families on either side of the room are waiting nervously. The tension in the air quickly affects Zayn, seeping into his bloodstream until the anxiousness and fear start to overwhelm him.

“Now, what was your name?” Sophia asks him, voice calm. Zayn decides to focus on her. She gestures him to sit down and he does, the cushioned couch much more comfortable than the wooden chair.

“It’s, uh, Zayn.” He replies weakly. His hands twist together and he’s got an unsettling feeling in his chest.

“Zayn,” She repeats, smiling softly. “And who’s the name of the patient you’re here for?”

“Louis Tomlinson.”

“Louis Tomlinson…” She says, flicking through pages on her clipboard until she stops at one that catches her eye. “Oh, he just came in forty-five minutes ago, did he?” Zayn nods, even though she’s not looking at him. He watches as she starts to frown again. “It says here that he was admitted by somebody who found him outside the hospital. They didn’t know his name until they took his I.D from the wallet that was inside his jacket. And you claim you’re his boyfriend?”

“I am!” Zayn shoots back, even though her question wasn’t accusing in the slightest. She glances up, taken aback. Zayn swallows. “Sorry. I—I am his boyfriend.”

She places the clipboard on her knee and she shifts so she’s facing him. “Would you happen to have any I.D on you, Zayn?”

He freezes. He completely forgot about this part of the process. Identification. He exists, visibly, but his name isn’t on record anywhere. His identity doesn’t exist without a birth certificate, social security number, passport, anything.

“I…It’s at home, sorry.” He puts on a small smile, hoping it would pass.

“Okay, well, we can look you up—“

“Sophia,” Zayn says, possibly sounding more desperate than he intended.

She looks at him differently and pauses before saying anything. Zayn’s silent, too. He doesn’t know what to say, “ _I don’t have any I.D because I wasn’t alive until a little while ago_ ”, “ _I died, like, two hundred years ago so you won’t find any records, actually_ ”, “ _Please believe me when I say I’m not a criminal_.”

Sophia eyes him carefully, her face soft as she notices something about him. She leans back into the chair before resting the clipboard down onto the seat next to her. Her tongue darts out quickly to lick her lips and her frown doesn’t leave her forehead.

“Zayn, is something wrong?”

His eyes scan the room. He can’t say anything, not to a stranger. He has to leave, or get a disguise, or buy one of those Invisible Cloaks he once saw in a movie that Louis made him watch. He has to call one of Louis’ friends, they have to know.

“Yeah, I—uh,” Zayn scratches the back of his head, “I just need a cup of water.”

She doesn’t seem to notice the one that Zayn still has in his hand, and Zayn’s grateful for that.

“Oh.” Sophia says, surprised. “Okay, well, I’ll grab you one of those and you wait here, yeah?”

Zayn flashes her a smile and nods once, “Okay.”

As soon as she leaves the room, Zayn stands from the chair and opens one of the doors that read ‘Emergency Exit’, which, thankfully, leads outside. There’s a small, concrete veranda that overlooks the car park, occupied by two smokers chatting by the railing. Zayn’s not sure why, but he slips passed them without them noticing in fear that they’ll tell him off because he’s not supposed to be there. He steps down the stairs and walks speedily around the outside of the hospital until he’s back at the footpath where he landed.

Spots of dried blood can be seen leading into the hospital doors, trailing from a larger patch in the middle of the footpath. Zayn swallows deeply; already knowing it belongs to Louis, from his knee.

There’s a payphone to the left of him and he walks up to it, and then notices that it costs money to use. He sighs in frustration, patting his pockets anyway even though he knows he never has money since he’s never had a purpose to. Louis’ wallet is in the hospital with cash but Zayn knows obtaining it will be near impossible.

The traffic is loud, the sounds of cars hooting and driving on the roads. Over the commotion, though, he hears a faint sound of guitar playing and singing. A busker.

Zayn strolls towards the sound casually, making sure to not gain the attention of anyone walking the streets. He’s not doing a good job, as it seems, since he seems to catch the eye of everyone, some even whispering about him to his or her friend. Honestly, does he look that distorted and distressed that it’s obvious to everyone else?

He moves closer to the acoustic sound and notices an old man sitting on a stool, strumming his guitar and singing some sad, slow song passionately, his eyes closed. There’s an open guitar case placed in front of the microphone stand, partially filled with notes and some coins. Perfect.

By not making any sound, Zayn walks towards him, and in one swift movement he bends down in front of the case, collects some coins into the palm of his hand and steps back. As he goes to leave, though, the man opens his eyes, frowning at him.

Zayn acts fast and takes one of the coins from his hand and chucks one into the guitar case before giving him a wide smile and tapping the man on the shoulder in encouragement. The old man falls for it. He returns a smile without stopping his song, and goes back to closing his eyes. Zayn lets out a breath of relief.

It’s a lot trickier to steal when you’re visible, Zayn thinks.

_4:07pm_

He remembers Harry’s number because of his work-related fridge magnet that’s been on Louis’ fridge ever since his company helped move in Louis’ furniture. Zayn’s sub-consciously remembered Harry’s home phone number by how many times he’s seen it.

The phone rings twice before there’s an answer, “Hello?”

“Come to the hospital, Louis’ been in an accident.”

“What? What happened?” A pause. “Wait… Who is this?”

Zayn swallows deeply, “It’s, uh, it’s Zayn.”

He hears Harry gasp, then, softly, “No fucking way.”

“Yeah.” Zayn says, scratching the back of his head. He sort of forgot that Harry’s never heard or seen him before. All of Louis’ friends haven’t, actually. That’s a weird concept, knowing them when they’ve never had a face-to-face conversation before. “Tell Nick to come, too, yeah? And Eleanor and Niall, if you can.”

“Are you okay?” Harry asks. There’s rustling on the other end of the line, and his voice is suddenly distant, which means that Zayn’s now on loudspeaker. “Shit. So… You’re human now?”

“Yeah,” Zayn swallows, his lips slightly curving upwards, “Happened just before.”

“Shit, that’s so great. Congrats, Zayn.” Harry tells him. It sends a warm feeling throughout him. “Alright, I’m gonna tell Nick and he’ll ring the others. We’ll be there soon. Meet you out the front?”

“Okay, see you soon.”

They hang up and the noise of the town fills his ears again. He turns back towards the hospital and presses his back against one of the walls, away from the blood on the sidewalk. He crosses his arms and ankles and leans his head back.

Closing his eyes, he exhales and lets his mind fill with seven words before it can be replaced with any sort of pessimism that could possibly drive him into slight insanity. _Louis is okay and he will survive_.

*

Someone taps his shoulder and Zayn opens his eyes again. He looks to his left and he’s faced with one of the nurses he’s seen before. God, what’s she here for? To tell him off for sleeping on the sidewalk?

Except when Zayn studies her face she’s not mad. Her eyebrows are furrowed but in worry, her eyes filled with sympathy and the hand on his shoulder is light, trying to comfort.

A terrible feeling sinks in Zayn’s stomach at the sight of her, at her expression, at her body language, like a body representation that symbolizes bad news. His chest’s constricting, his throat already tightening up, forgetting how to breathe.

“Zayn?” She asks, carefully, her voice soft.

Zayn can’t find his voice, so he only nods. She’s crouching down next to him, and she drops her head for a second or two, like she’s preparing herself to say the next words that come from her mouth.

“I’m so sorry.” Her words carry through Zayn’s ears, his heart stilling. He doesn’t want to hear the rest of this sentence, wants to storm into the hospital and enter the room where Louis is, wants to hold him, wants to try everything he can to bring him home, he doesn’t belong here.

“We tried everything we could.” She continues. Why is she continuing? “We couldn’t save Louis. I’m so sorry.”

It’s like a gunshot’s been fired right next to his ear, numbing them. They ring with a silence, like everything’s blocked out, except for a piercing, high-pitched ring. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even look at the nurse anymore, just into the distance, where he sees nothing.

Then he’s burning up. Like a kettle coming to boil, a sudden hatred for the nurse next to him. He find himself breathing heavily, the hand on his shoulder burning his skin, it doesn’t belong there.

They let Louis die.

“You fucking monster.” Zayn spits, his voice a low growl. “You’re all fucking monsters, how _dare_ you!”

He can feel his cheeks getting wet, his vision blurring, the pool of tears filling up then pouring out. Louis’ gone.

“How could you let him _die_?” Zayn’s shouting now, feeling overpowered with rage yet pulled down by his own weakness, like his muscles have given up, his entire body just a dead weight on the ground. He can feel his chest heaving, his bones shaking, sobs coming out uncontrollably. “You let him die.”

The woman’s face seems unaffected; her expression not changed since he first saw her. The hand remains on his shoulder, her other hand coming up to his other shoulder, as though to restrain him from thrashing around.

He deserves to thrash around, hell; he deserves to create a scene and protest as loud as he can.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

“Zayn, Zayn, Zayn!” She tells him, now lightly shaking his shoulders, her voice deeper than before.

Zayn squeezes his eyes closed. He may as well die, too, he thinks. Maybe he could run out onto the busy road, right now, and he can die like that—run over by a stranger. The idea of it seems very alluring, since he knows there’s no way he can stay on a world so unfair, go through life without Louis alive, spend his human days grieving. If he kills himself, he and Louis will be together somehow, at least.

“Zayn, for fuck’s sake, Zayn!"

The nurses voice sounds strangely familiar now. Zayn’s still sobbing, possibly creating a puddle of tears, enough to see his own reflection.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a mess.” The nurse says, hands tightening on his shoulders, “Just wake up! Please, Zayn.”

Wake up? He _is_ awake. He opens his eyes to spit in the ladies’ face, to shove her off, to run onto the road.

He opens his eyes to spit in the ladies’ face, but he’s faced with somebody who’s not a lady at all.

“Oh, my god.” Harry breathes, hands resting on Zayn’s face instead, “Are you okay?”

“Louis,” Zayn says before he realizes, moving to get up, “I need to see Louis.”

“Zayn, wait.” Harry tells him, keeping Zayn sitting. “He’s still in surgery, you can’t go in there.”

“No, I need to.” Zayn pushes, looking Harry dead on, his vision still blurry. “He’s… Oh god, he’s dead, isn’t he?”

Another wrecked sob tears through Zayn’s body and Harry’s quick to comfort him, wrapping both of his arms around Zayn’s neck, his hands holding his head.

“He’s alive, babe. Louis’ alive. It was just a dream, you were having a night-mare.” Harry coos, stroking his hair, “Louis’ fine, he’ll be alright, okay? Just breathe for me, nice and slow. It’s okay.”

Zayn’s surprised at how quickly that comforts him. What a fucking terrible, traumatic dream. He wants to pull it out of his head and smash it to pieces with a sledgehammer, then burn it to non-existence.

He tries to focus on his breathing, like Harry said. His tears are still spilling out—he figures they won’t stop for a while—and they fall onto Harry’s shoulder, creating a damp spot, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind.

They stay like that, hugging, swaying softly. He wonders how long he was having that nightmare, what time Harry and Nick arrived.

Zayn pulls back a little bit, wiping his sleeve underneath his nose.

“Thanks,” He manages to say, voice hoarse. “Where’s,” He sniffs, “Where’s Nick?”

“Gone to the bakery, we were getting hungry,” Harry says with a soft smile, “You’ve been asleep like this for an hour, I think.”

“God,” Zayn replies, wiping his eyes with his sleeves, too, until Harry offers him a couple of tissues. Zayn smiles, sort of embarrassed. He must look like a mess. “Hope I didn’t scare you too much.”

“Oh, no,” Harry says, smirk playing on his lips, “Just gave me a heart attack or two.”

Zayn lets out a weak laugh, then sniffs a few more times before leaning into Harry’s side. Harry welcomes him, wrapping his arm around Zayn, pressing a kiss atop his head.

_5:13pm_

Nick comes back with some food for the three of them. Zayn takes one look at the bread in his hands and his stomach grumbles at the thought of food, but instantly feels sick at the thought of eating it. If he did, he’d probably throw it all back up, anyway.

They tell Zayn that Eleanor and Niall are on their way and it calms him some more. At least when Louis wakes up he’ll be in the presence of friends, especially Niall, his family.

“How long’s he been in there for?” Nick asks Zayn when they all fall silent.

Zayn would be content to stand without a word, to be quiet until Louis comes out of that room well and healthy again. Though, it’s hard to do that when Harry keeps staring at him and Nick keeps grinning whenever he talks like he can’t help it.

To be fair, if they were anywhere else and if Louis was by his side and if everybody was in good health then Zayn would be smiling, too.

He swallows harshly before he replies, “I don’t know. Maybe three hours? Or more?”

He’s lost track of time ever since he left the hallway where the clock was in front of him. He can guess roughly, though. It’s not like time hasn’t escaped him entirely, even if it seems like he’s been here for days not hours.

“Should be out soon, then.” Nick comments, giving Zayn’s shoulder a warm pat.

“Yeah,” Zayn says. Softer, he adds, “If it goes well.”

He knows Nick and Harry choose not to hear the second part of that answer. The gloomy thought hangs over him like a shadow, though—like a big, grey storm cloud hovering above his head. What he would _give_ to be able to go back into that room and see what’s going on.

“Hey,” Nick says suddenly, bumping the side of his hip to Zayn’s. It’s like when they spoke as ghosts, when they knew nobody could see them. It’s familiar, secretive, and somehow it feels the same even when Zayn catches the eyes of others. “How’s being human?”

Zayn shrugs, “Would’ve preferred changing under different circumstances.”

Nick nods. Harry stands next to him with his hands in his pockets, his head turned the other way as he observes the people that walk past. If it were anyone else, Zayn would’ve thought he was listening in. But because it’s Harry, he knows he’s legitimately watching the world go by while having thoughts of his own.

“’Course,” Nick ends up saying, “But now when Louis wakes up again he’ll be able to talk to you without the nurses thinking he’s done some damage to his brain.”

Zayn’s mouth curves up into a small smile. “Yeah.”

He thinks about his transition, how it felt like a burn through his veins, the electrocution feel of it all, and the pain. Yet when he looks back on Nick’s transition, how calm it was for him, and how he didn’t even notice it was happening.

“Why was it different?” Zayn hears himself asking. He looks at Nick, who’s frowning at him. “When I turned, it was like, painful. But for you it was harmless.”

“All comes down to emotion.” Nick tells him, knowingly. “I wondered why I didn’t feel it at all and remembered it being said that the transitioning feeling changes depending on your emotional, mental and physical state. I was calm and relaxed, so that’s how it was for me.” He pauses for a number of seconds. “You, on the other hand, were the opposite, I’d imagine.”

“Very.” Zayn agrees.

_5:23pm_

“Hey, Zayn?” Harry asks him, a frown present as his tone suggests that he’d been thinking over something.

Zayn raises a brow at him, “Yeah?”

“Where were you flying to? Like, did you have anything else with you?”

“We actually, uh, were supposed to go to the beach. Celebrate our one year anniversary, you know?” Zayn says. Harry’s face turns soft instantly, sympathetic. Nick only nods, aware. “And we had Louis’ backpack, just with overnight shit but it must’ve fallen off or something… I didn’t even think about it as soon as I saw Louis hurt.”

Harry hums, “That’s fair enough.” He says. “Just worried about his phone and money and stuff, yeah?”

He earns a backhand slap from Nick to the stomach, “Shut up, will you? Louis’ in hospital and you’re crapping on about fucking luxuries.”

Harry shrugs, whining in protest, “Just wondering!”

“There wasn’t anything like that in there, anyway.” Zayn tells him, giving him a small smile. “Louis’ phone and ID were in his jacket. No money, though. We have our own… method.”

He thinks back to the first time they went to the beach, how Zayn’s invisibility let him steal from a rich man’s wallet, which let them stay the night at a cheap hotel. His heart clenches at the thought. What if they can’t ever go back there again?

“Harry!”

The three of them turn their heads towards the call of acknowledgement, letting their eyes fall to the boy grinning and walking towards them. Zayn smiles at him when he realizes that it’s Niall.

Harry’s met Niall one other time, when it was Harry’s birthday earlier this year and Nick told Zayn to tell Louis to tell everyone he knew to come to the party. They’d got on perfectly, drunkenly singing along to the songs with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. Zayn only remembers snippets of that night, the image of them doing that is one of them.

Making love to Louis in the backseat of someone else’s car is another one.

Harry grins at him and stretches his arms out, Niall falls into them with just as much enthusiasm. When they part, Niall messes up Harry’s hair with his hand and laughs loudly.

Usually, Zayn would be admiring the sight of the two of them, always smiling and bubbly. But the dark, stormy cloud above his head seems to prevent him from showing such emotion.

“So, who’re these fellas, then?” Niall asks Harry, gesturing towards Zayn and Nick.

Harry introduces each of them. Nick hugs Niall, and when Harry tells him who Zayn is, Niall goes into shock for a few seconds.

“You’re Louis’ boyfriend?” He asks, almost in disbelief.

Zayn nods. He knows he’s probably giving him a cold stare but it’s unintentional and he’s sure Niall knows it’s not personal, you know, given the circumstances.

“Jesus,” Niall breathes, “If I knew you were this good-looking I would’ve tried to make myself a little more presentable every time I met you!”

At that, Zayn can’t help but twitch his mouth into a small smirk.

“That’s how I felt!” Harry agrees, eyes and grin widening.

Niall and Harry fall into a conversation after that and Zayn notices Nick staring at him intently. He feels Nick’s hand touch Zayn’s shoulder and Zayn turns to him.

“You okay?” He asks.

Zayn gives him a nod in response. It’s obviously not very convincing, as Nick’s stare hardens and the frown on his face becomes more evident.

He doesn’t press, though. He leaves his hand on his shoulder as a sign of comfort like a silent promise, _if you ever need to talk, I’m here_. And as though Zayn heard it out loud, he nods again.

“Well, I’m starving.” Nick says, his other hand resting on his stomach. “Did you wanna grab something to eat?”

Zayn knows he’s partly only asking because he thinks getting away from this environment will do him some good. He doesn’t actually know if Nick’s hungry or not, since he did just have a jam donut. But the truth is, being any further away only makes Zayn think of the pain he’ll be in, even though it won’t occur anymore. Somehow, though, Zayn thinks it will.

“No, thanks.” He replies.

“I’m glad you said that, that muffin didn’t fill me up at all.” Harry says, breaking off his conversation with Niall.

Nick lets out a sigh and Zayn’s unsure whether it was meant to be audible or not, and gives Zayn one more look before dropping his hand.

“Alright, well, we’ll see you when we get back.”

They turn to go and Zayn gives them a short wave. He leans up against the hospital wall and closes his eyes for a bit. Maybe he’ll get some silence, help clear his mind and sort out his thoughts.

“How’s it been, then, mate?” Niall asks, voice closer than Zayn expected. “You know, besides the accident.”

He lets out a short laugh as though the situation is humorous. Zayn opens one eye to look at him pointedly, and then closes it again without a further response.

Niall doesn’t seem to get the social cue of telling him to shut up, though. “Have I done something? I know this is the first time we’ve really properly met but if I’m not mistaken I didn’t think you’d be this… uh, cold. To be honest.”

Zayn sort of feels guilty at that. He’s no real reason to be shutting Niall off like this, since he’s been nothing but good to him and to Louis throughout the whole time they’ve known each other.

So Zayn lets out a calming breath and opens both eyes to look at him. “Sorry. I think I’m just stressed out, you know?”

Niall blinks and nods his head, like he knew that’s what was going on inside Zayn’s mind. He puts a hand on Zayn’s shoulder like Nick had done and grips it once before letting it fall again.

“Don’t be.” He tells Zayn. “And I know what you’re thinking, easier said than done. But trust me, I’ve known Lou my whole life, I know what he’s capable of, he’s a strong man.”

Zayn doesn’t doubt that. Louis’ the strongest person Zayn knows.

“But you don’t know the damage that he’s done.” Zayn says.

 _The damages that I caused_ , Zayn thinks.

Niall juts his bottom lip out and shakes his head, “Don’t have to.” He tells him, not one sign of uncertainty in his words. “I’ve seen him get through eighteen years of his life in the same room, in the same small bed with the same backyard everyday. I’ve seen him fall into the deepest, saddest hole I’ve ever seen anyone in and pull himself out of it. I’ve seen him brush it off and get his life started in a new area with a career that he likes.” Niall lists off, counting on his fingers. He gestures towards the hospital, “To him, a few bumps and bruises and broken limbs are just another story to tell! So stop stressing, it’s not good for you.”

And he’s right. He’s so unbelievably right that Zayn almost feels stupid for doubting Louis in any way. He knows it’s in his nature, though, to feel this over-protective and concerned, but he needs to have a little more faith in him. _Louis is okay and he will survive._

“You’re a good guy, Niall.” Zayn tells him truthfully, giving him a genuine smile.

Niall gives him one back. “And, hey, in all honesty, I _am_ shitting bricks about it. Louis’ my main man, like my brother, yeah? But it’s best to have high hopes than to be spending the whole time chewing your nails down to the flesh, isn’t it?”

Zayn cringes at the hypothetical analogy but finds himself agreeing. After that, they stand in a comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the town fill their ears.

_5:59pm_

Eleanor arrives next, the sky almost completely dark. He hears her when he exits the hospital after needing to pee and blocking his face from anyone that might have been Sophia. He hears Eleanor asking the boys if “he’s okay” and he’s not sure whether she means him or Louis, but either way Zayn doesn’t catch an answer.

He rounds the corner and earns an elevator stare from Eleanor before turning back to Harry, who’s grinning more profoundly than normal. Nick proudly slings an arm around Zayn when he sees him, earning a different, quizzical stare from Eleanor.

“This, Eleanor, is the famous Zayn.” He announces. Zayn flashes her what he hopes looks like a sweet smile.

He meets her gaze and she’s staring at him with question. He notices her taking in everything about Zayn, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she gives him a quick hello with a peck on the cheek and takes his hand before leading him into the hospital again.

“Whoa, hang on.” Zayn tries to refuse and pull back but despite Eleanor’s petite figure, she’s exceedingly strong.

“We’re getting you cleaned up.” She replies without looking back at him.

“Cleaned up—?”

He stops mid-sentence when he takes the time to look down at himself. His outfit’s a mess and so is his skin. He’s dirty head to toe from being amongst the mud and dirt from the hill. No wonder everyone was looking at him like he didn’t belong.

She takes him into the women’s bathroom and makes him stand in front of the mirror that covers the wall. There’s nobody else in the room, which is surprising considering how many patients are waiting around. In the men’s bathroom, the mirror was so dirty he couldn’t even make out his own reflection.

He takes a look at himself for the first time since turning human. No glow whatsoever. It’s weird, seeing him like other people see him. He’s so much older than the last time he was human yet he looks the exact same from when he died. He’s wearing Louis’ clothes, a sweater and a pair of jeans. The fabrics where his knees are have been torn, a gaping hole exposing the skin underneath. A few threads from the sweater have torn, too. Louis will be mad, he loves this sweater.

“Look at your hair.” Eleanor says, almost to herself. Zayn notices the mess that is his hair, all going in different directions, some strands falling over his face.

“It was a bad fall.” Zayn counteracts, ignoring the small break in his voice.

Eleanor stops searching through her bag and gives Zayn a sympathetic look. It’s definitely not what he needs right now because Zayn knows his face and eyes are still a little red from crying and if anyone says the words, “I’m sorry,” then the cycle could possibly start over again.

He decides it’s because he’s been holding back the emotion ever since Harry comforted him. One little trigger and he’s afraid it could all spill out at any moment.

“I’m so sorry,” She tells him, stepping closer and resting her hands on either one of Zayn’s cheeks, Zayn curses in his mind. “I don’t know what happened but I know you would’ve done everything in your power to make sure Louis was as safe as possible."

Zayn nods once. He wants to tell her it was his fault, that he wouldn’t be in hospital if it weren’t for him, but he knows all he’ll get is pity and words that won’t change a thing.

She gives him a comforting hug and Zayn leans into it. He could get used to human affection.

“Don’t blame yourself like I know you are.” She tells him softly. “Everyone knows you would never hurt Louis. He does, too.”

They’re only words and they don’t alter Louis’ current condition but they give Zayn a sense of ease and contentment he didn’t know he needed until now.

“Until he’s okay I won’t stop blaming myself.” Zayn admits.

She pulls back and meets Zayn’s eyes again, nodding. She doesn’t speak of it for the rest of the time they spend in the bathroom and he’s grateful for that. Instead, she takes out baby wipes and a brush from her bag and proceeds to clean up Zayn’s appearance whilst filling him in on what she’s been doing since he saw him last.

He’s glad he called the four of them. It gives him some distraction, some perspective about the situation other than his own mind. The guilt still lingers within him, growing the more Louis stays inside that room, but it seems to simmer the more he talks about different things.

“There,” Eleanor says with a smile, quickly touching up Zayn’s hair before standing back, “Much better.”

Zayn turns to the mirror again and notices his hair brushed out and cleaned, his skin no longer dirty. His clothes are still torn but he chooses to think they’re not as noticeable as before. He turns back to Eleanor to thank her but is interrupted by the call of her name.

“El? Eleanor?” It’s Harry.

“In here!” She calls back, looking at Zayn through the mirror, somehow proud of her work.

Harry comes stumbling into the girls’ bathroom, looking frenzied with mixed emotions in his eyes.

“Zayn,” He breathes, then his mouth turns into his usual Cheshire cat smile, “Louis’ awake.”

_6:19pm_

He looks so fragile, so delicate. He’s slightly sitting up in the hospital bed, thin tubes attached to his now pale skin, a cast around his middle and small bandages scattered on his face. He smiles as soon as his eyes reach Zayn’s, who’s only lingering at the doorway with his chest in pain at the sight before him.

“Hey,” Louis says weakly, voice croaky from the lack of use. He tries to sit up further but frowns and hisses when it hurts.

Zayn’s by his side in a second, holding his arm because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“I’m so sorry.” Zayn tells him because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Louis blinks and looks up at Zayn in question. His pretty face has red scratches on his forehead and chin, a bandage over his left eyebrow and one over his bottom lip.

“What happened?” He asks Zayn, taking his hand off his arm and holds it with his own instead. But he takes one glance down at Zayn’s hand in his and his eyes widen animatedly. When he looks back up, his grip on Zayn’s hand tightens. “You’re not… You have no glow.”

Zayn exhales, a smile growing. He sits down on the chair close to the bed and licks his lips before saying, “I’m human, Lou.”

“Christ,” Louis breathes, shaking his head, “Are you really?”

Zayn nods, eyes crinkling at the sides. “People can see me now.” He says. “I’ve already had a conversation with a complete stranger.”

“Have you now?” Louis says, an eyebrow raised. He takes a moment to look over Zayn. He swallows deeply, then meets Zayn’s eyes again. “I missed it. The transition.”

There’s a moment where neither of them say a word. The only sound in the room is the steady beeping of Louis’ heartbeat on the monitor. Zayn doesn’t miss the way it sped up when Louis caught sight of him at the doorway.

“I love you.” Louis says, the words echoing around the eeriness of the room.

Zayn reaches out his hand and cups the side of Louis’ face without a slither of hesitation, “I love you so much.”

He kisses him, the bandage on his lip scratches a bit but Zayn doesn’t care in the slightest. He didn’t know how much he missed the feeling of Louis, missed the sight of Louis, the entirety of his being, until he finally was met with him again.

It’s like a craving that envelops every thought, a yearning so strong you can feel it pulsing through your veins. And when the craving is fulfilled or when the yearned moment finally comes, everything is washed away and the emptiness that was once felt disperses into oblivion, replaced with the sensation of totality.

He thought those kinds of feelings were only felt through his supernatural state—yet his human self finds emotions a lot more powerful.

They pull away but not far. Zayn’s thumb strokes Louis’ cheek softly, careful not to hit any bruises or other marks. Louis’ hand rests on Zayn’s face, too, and when he wipes his thumb underneath Zayn’s eye it’s wet.

“Why’re you crying?” Louis says, soft, only for them.

Zayn hadn’t realized he was. Maybe it’s delayed, maybe the tears were supposed to come beforehand. Maybe they’re leftover tears that didn’t flow when they should’ve. Or maybe it’s the overwhelming feeling inside him, from being apart for so long with the risk of Louis not surviving…

Yeah, that’s why.

“Could’ve lost you.” Zayn tells him, pressing another short, sweet kiss to Louis’ battered mouth. “There was a moment there…” Zayn swallows, squeezing Louis’ hand, “Where I thought I did.”

“Well,” Louis gives a tiny smile, then brushes Zayn’s hair back, “If it weren’t for that force field you placed over me, I’d be gone instantly, I reckon.”

Zayn’s brows pull together as he tries to figure out what he means. “What force field?”

“You don’t remember?” Louis asks him, eyebrows raised. Zayn shakes his head slowly. “As soon as we hit the ground, something…green? I think it was? Came over me, like wrapped around both of us, until I bounced off onto the ground.” Louis explains, shrugs. “It must have been the force of me hitting the ground the second time that caused me to break a couple of ribs and become knocked out.”

Zayn cringes. A couple of broken ribs.

“When did they say you’ll be better?”

Louis starts to smile, “Don’t stress, love. I can go home as long as I keep this brace around me and just, like, don’t move around much, obviously.”

Zayn can hear movement outside of the room but Zayn pays no mind to it. He stays looking at Louis, keeping a hold of his hand.

When he was a ghost and they were no longer in close proximity of each other, they’d feel squashed, hurt, sick and destroyed. Now that Zayn’s human, he feels the same but in a less mystical, extreme level. He’s almost lost Louis twice now, and for as long as Zayn lives (for the second time), he’s not letting Louis out of his sight ever again.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Harold! Where’s your patience?”

Nick’s voice echoes through the hallway and into the room. Louis perks up at the familiar voice and Zayn looks towards the doorway.

“I may have called some people.” Zayn says, almost sheepish.

Louis lets out a laugh, “Bring ‘em in, then.”

Harry must have been listening in, since he bustles in at the words, almost ready to dive on Louis. Zayn senses it and stands up defensively, his stern and puffed chest bouncing off Harry’s before Harry’s even aware.

He blinks once at Zayn, confused. He feels Louis’ light touch on his arm and Zayn gives Harry a smile, stepping aside.

“Sorry.” He mutters, letting Harry sit in the chair instead.

It must not have been his ghostly identity that made him feel that overwhelming sudden protectiveness; ready to act when anything that comes close to endangering Louis appears. It’s just Zayn.

Nick came in close after Harry, catching Zayn’s eye and flashing him a calming smile and nod. Zayn returns it, still keeping a watchful eye on Louis, who’s now laughing with Harry. He _knows_ it’s only Harry—harmless, nothing but love Harry—but Louis’ fragility makes Zayn all the more alert, over everything.

Eleanor and Niall enter together. Zayn looks at the two of them. Niall stills for a moment, so quick that Zayn would’ve missed if he weren’t watching him. Niall’s looking up and down Louis in the bed, and he stops as though he was in shock, or in denial, that his best friend, his strong inspiration, is frail in a hospital bed. He shakes from it, though, clenching his jaw once and then smiling at Louis when he meets his eyes—Zayn knows that it’s forced, and it makes him wonder how many times Niall’s had to do that in order to make everything seem fine.

Eleanor’s more transparent. Her face softens immediately, eyebrows furrowing worriedly, eyes almost instantly emotional. She raises a hand to her mouth as she gasps, then to her chest.

They stay for half an hour, making Louis feel at home. The room feels loud, warm and comfortable as long as they’re here. Louis’ laughing and he’s his normal talkative self. Zayn’s content to sit back and watch as they all move around, how Louis interacts with the people he loves most.

Soon enough, it’s only Zayn, Louis and Eleanor. Harry and Nick had to leave because of Harry’s job in the morning and Niall had to because of the travel time back home, which is a fair while away from the hospital. It’s instantly a lot quieter, and Louis’ looking noticeably tired, sleepy.

Fifteen minutes later and Louis’ fast asleep. Zayn’s sitting in the chair beside him, holding his hand and hearing Louis breathe. Eleanor’s sitting in the chair in the corner, flicking through a magazine.

She glances at her watch, places the magazine back where she found it, then stands up. “I’m getting a coffee. You want one?”

It’s completely dark outside, the window near Eleanor showing a clear vision of the moon and stars. It’s a full moon tonight, brightening up the entire sky. Zayn thinks of how nice that would be to stare up at on the beach, where they would’ve been right now.

“Uh, no, thanks. I’m good.”

“Okay,” Eleanor says, messing up his hair as she walks passed, “I’ll be back soon.”

She exits the room and it’s only Louis and Zayn. The only noise being the monitors and Louis’ steady breathing. His hold on Zayn’s hand is loose but his skin is warm.

Zayn bends down to Louis’ arm, shutting his eyes. He doesn’t realize how exhausted he is until he sees nothing but the complete darkness of his eyelids.

_8:15pm_

“He can’t stay here, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“I know. But, you don’t understand. He’s nowhere to go. Can you just—please, let him stay? He won’t cause any annoyance or troubles—“

“I’m sure he won’t, but we have rules we need to abide by. Hospitals have closing times, too. Surely he knows that.”

A sigh. “Alright, okay. He won’t be happy, but—“

“He can come back first thing in the morning, by all means.”

Zayn blinks open his eyes when he hears shoes tapping against the laminated floors, stepping close towards him.

“Sir?” The same voice talking before addresses him and Zayn frowns when he looks up at her. “Sir, visiting times are over now.”

Zayn brings up his hand and rubs at his eye, “Oh.” He says, then blinks a few more times until his eyes adjust to the bright room. “So, what room do I go to now?”

“Zayn,” Eleanor says. When Zayn locks eyes with her she stares back at him with something like hesitation? Sympathy?

“There are no rooms here for you.” The woman says. “You’re required to go back home, sir.”

Zayn looks at her, then Eleanor, then back at Louis, then to the woman again. He shakes his head in disbelief. “What?”

“You can stay at mine for the night.” Eleanor offers quickly.

“Louis said he’s fine to come home as long as he keeps the brace on.” Zayn says, looking directly at the nurse. “He’ll come home, too?”

She shakes her head, “He’ll have to stay the night. We still need to run some more tests until we’re absolutely certain he’s okay.”

Zayn glances down at his hold on Louis’ hand. He starts to frown. “You want me to leave him?”

“Just for tonight.” She says with a pressed smile. “He’ll still be here for you tomorrow.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything else, just keeps his eyes locked on Louis, still sleeping peacefully. The thought alone of leaving Louis’ side makes his entire body feel uneasy, empty. Louis will wake up sometime soon to an empty room, with Zayn no longer there beside him.

He’s shaking his head before he realizes, “I can’t, though.”

“Zayn, c’mon.” Eleanor says steadily, almost rehearsed as though she knew Zayn would be this difficult. “My place isn’t far from here, Louis will be fine.”

Zayn remains silent.

He hears someone sigh, then the nurse’s voice whispering, “Make sure he leaves before nine.”

When the nurse leaves the room, Eleanor’s by his side. She crouches down with a hand on his back.

“Let’s go, love. You’ll have a nice, comfortable sleep in a bed and it’ll be tomorrow and you’ll be in this exact chair again before you know it.” She tells him, rubbing his back softly. She changes her voice to a whisper, “Let’s go, Zayn, before we wake him up.”

Zayn swallows deeply, his jaw clenching and releasing. He nods once reluctantly, but in the back of his mind he knows there’s nothing he can do, he’s no longer invisible anymore. He gets up from the chair and presses lingering kiss to Louis’ forehead, squeezes his hand, then walks out of the room before he thinks about leaving any more.

They reach outside, the temperature dropping remarkably from the heating inside, and Zayn feels his skin grow goosebumps immediately.

“Alright, my car’s down here, let’s get you in there before we both freeze to death.” Eleanor lets out a little laugh, her words shaped around puffs of mist.

They speedily walk down the footpath until Eleanor gets out her keys and presses a button, lighting up one of the cars parked. It’s a silver, slick and modern vehicle. Zayn didn’t expect anything less from her, honestly.

He opens up the passenger’s door and gets in quickly. Eleanor starts up the car and turns up the heating before reversing. If Zayn weren’t in such a foul mood he’d compliment her on the car, on the interior of it all.

Instead, he only stares out the window and remains silent the entire drive.

*

When they reach Eleanor’s house, it’s nothing but a faint blur to him. He’s exhausted, numb and really just needs to be somewhere else. Somewhere in particular, actually. And he can see his irritability having an effect on Eleanor.

“Don’t be such a downer.” She says once they enter the front door. “Can’t have you bringing in such negative vibes, can we?”

Zayn doesn’t give her a reply. It’s not because he’s salty or childish, it’s simply because he knows if he says something it’ll come out sarcastic or disheartening anyway.

She turns to him after she switches on the light and guides him towards the living room couch. The place is bright, organized and there are so many windows. The couch is also a _lot_ comfier than Louis’.

“C’mon,” She tells him, “Smile for me.”

He locks eyes with her and gives her a close-lipped smile.

She shakes her head. “No, not good enough. Smile with your eyes."

He frowns slightly, then tries to ‘smile with his eyes’. It seemed to do something, though, since it makes Eleanor burst out laughing.

“Alright,” She says, a hand on his shoulder, bracing herself “That’ll do.” She gets up from the coffee table and begins to walk around the couch, towards the kitchen. “What do you want for dinner? You must be starving.”

“Uhh,” He starts to say, then clears his throat, “Whatever you’re having. Where am I sleeping?”

“In that room over there,” She says, finger pointing towards the room directly opposite the kitchen. “Bed’s a double so that’d be fine, yeah? There’s also, like, spare clothes in the drawers if you want them, left over from a friend who stays here often.”

Zayn moves from the couch, desperate to find a bed to fall into.

“D’you want tea?” Eleanor asks, back faced towards him.

“Nah, El, thanks.” Zayn says, opening the door into the bedroom, “I might, uh, might have a nap for a little bit, actually.”

She turns to face him and gives him a sympathetic smile. What is it with everyone giving him that?

“’Course,” She nods once, “Night, love.”

“Night, El.”

Zayn closes the door behind him and takes off his jacket and shoes before collapsing onto the mattress. He doesn’t even have the strength to lift the covers up over himself.

*

When he wakes during the night, he’s cocooned and warm, the comforter wrapped around him.

For a second, he has no idea where he is; the first thought in his mind is _whose bed is this?_ But then he remembers, and he glances at the clock. 3:58am.

He shuts his eyes again, eager to wake up to the sunrise and greet Louis. Eager to take him home. 

*

It’s a month later and Louis’ fully healed. He’s got a permanent scar on his forehead from where it hit the boulder that knocked him unconscious but Louis doesn’t seem to mind.

“It’ll make me look tough in front of all the ladies,” Louis had joked, wiggling his eyebrows up and down, earning a slap on the arm from Zayn.

It’s a month later and they’re finally going out on their first ‘official’ date as a couple since they started dating to celebrate their belated one year anniversary.

From the movies that Louis has made Zayn watch throughout the year, he’s captured what he sees as the iconic first date ritual. Dinner and a movie.

He’s been planning this since Louis got out of hospital. They’ve both decided not to get each other any presents, either, since they’re both indecisive and horrible at accepting gifts.

Louis’ still in their apartment getting ready while Zayn’s at Harry and Nick’s house, dressed in a suit and tie. He’s got a bouquet of flowers in his hands and when he walks out of the bedroom Harry and Nick both do a double take of him before they start hooting and wolf whistling.

“Look at this spunk!” Harry stands from the couch, gesturing towards him.

Zayn’s cheeks start to burn. It’s either from embarrassment or nerves or excitement. He likes the feeling.

“Lookin’ good, Malik.” Nick tells him, walking up beside him to link his arm around Zayn’s waist.

“Thanks, guys.” Zayn says, finding himself grinning.

He hears Nick sigh wistfully and Zayn catches him looking his way with… pride?

“I remember when you were a scared little ghost who had no fucking idea about a thing in the world.” Nick says, fond. “Now look at you, all human and going on a date with the boy you were once so afraid to say hello to.”

Zayn smiles at that. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

At that, the doorbell rings.

He looks towards it. “That must be the limo driver.”

“Sure is!” Harry says, grinning. He slaps Zayn’s arse and Zayn jumps from it. “Blow him away, mate.”

“Literally.” Nick tells him, throwing a wink his way.

Zayn laughs it all off through the nerves that multiply as he walks towards the door. The limo is stunning, black and sleek like a celebrities’. The best part about it is that Louis has no idea; he’s probably expecting a taxi.

They roll up outside the apartment building and Zayn tells the driver to toot the horn, telling Louis he’s here. Zayn steps outside of the vehicle, leaning against it with the bouquet in his hands.

A few minutes pass and that’s when Zayn realizes how chilly it is outside. Maybe he’ll have to do the classic move of giving Louis his jumper.

The lobby doors open and Zayn’s heart stops in his chest at the sight.

Louis’ wearing black jeans that are rolled up at the bottom, exposing his ankles. He’s got black lace-ups on and a black blazer that shapes his small shoulders, and shapes his waist perfectly, buttoned up in the middle with a white t-shirt underneath. His hair’s different tonight, looking lighter underneath the streetlight, his fringe curled into a swirl at the front.

He smiles and Zayn feels himself breathe again.

“Hey,” Louis says when he walks up to him. He smells so deliciously good, Zayn wants to go back into their apartment and fuck him into the mattress instead.

“Hey,” Zayn says a few seconds later. He reaches forwards, giving a sweet kiss on Louis’ cheek as though it was their first date ever. He hands him the flowers. “These are for you.”

Louis’ smile hasn’t left his face. “Thank you, Zayn.”

He glances up from the flowers after admiring them and his eyes seem to catch something he didn’t notice before. “Jesus _Christ_ , are you serious? A limo?”

How Louis could’ve missed it before amazes him, but the reaction is everything he thought it would be. Instead of answering, Zayn opens the door and gestures inside.

“After you.”

Louis looks at him once again in disbelief before disappearing inside the vehicle. Zayn doesn’t even attempt to disguise the smugness of his expression.

He joins Louis and shuts the door behind himself, looking at his boyfriend as he stares around the interior with his eyes filled with wonder, his head constantly shaking. Zayn knows Louis’ never ridden in a limousine before, never quite had luxuries such as this. It’s a new, exciting experience for them both in this way.

It makes Zayn remember an extremely rich, old man who lived in one of the apartments—Zayn was always unsure _why_ he lived here, the place is nothing special—and he’d travel around in fancy cars like these every day. At first, Zayn thought he had it all, money, luxuries and a fast life. After a month or so those thoughts replaced with how the old man had nothing, after all, since witnessing neither a visitor nor a friend in the time he’d lived there. The night before he died he had written a letter apologizing to everyone in his life for his greed and selfishness, for putting work and riches before anything else that meant so much more.

There was always an upside to being invisible, Zayn decides now. It was like a life lesson after another, and he feels wiser after observing it all.

“There’s even bloody champagne.” Louis says under his breath.

Zayn smiles instantly and watches Louis’ amazement towards the bottle surrounded in ice next to him. Without question, Zayn picks it up, as well as the glasses hanging around the car, and pops open the cork.

“ _Zayn_!” Louis whispers harshly, placing his hand over Zayn’s in warning, “That’s probably just there for show, you can’t just _open_ it—“

“Better not be,” Zayn says, the bottle cold in his hand, “I didn’t pay for prop alcohol.”

Louis’ mouth falls open. His hand slips off Zayn’s and he blinks a few times as Zayn pours the liquid in both glasses before he finds his voice.

“That bottle alone is probably—shit. It’s probably as expensive as Eleanor’s car.” Louis points out, taking the filled glass out of Zayn’s hand anyway.

If Zayn had any humility he’d explain that their friends are covering it all—since Louis’ the only one who works, so it’d be a bit cheap if Zayn spent all of Louis’ money on this—but he doesn’t, so he stays quiet.

“How’d you afford all of this?” Louis asks after he takes a sip, his eyes fluttering shut pleasantly as he sinks a little further into the plush seats. “I demand to know.”

Zayn flashes him a smile and shrugs, “Is this what you ask all the boys that take you on first dates?”

“No,” Louis responds, smirking over the brim of the glass as he goes to take another sip, “Just you.”

The limo stops and Zayn peers out the window. They’ve parked down the street of where Zayn’s booked their reservation. The partition separating the driver from them slowly comes down and the driver looks over his shoulder apologetically.

“Unfortunately, sir, I can’t get into that car park and here will have to do. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s alright.” Zayn tells him. The driver nods once and gets out of his seat.

“We’re here already, are we?” Louis says, then his eyes catch onto something in Zayn’s hand. “Hey, you haven’t even had a taste of it yet!”

Zayn looks down at the champagne in his hand. He’s never had alcohol before, never could afford it back when he was alive, never had a motive to have some when he was dead. He doesn’t want to get drunk, doesn’t see the appeal, really, but of course he’ll drink it if Louis asks him to.

“Cheers, then.” He says, raising his glass up to Louis’.

Louis grins, “Cheers!” And clinks their glasses together.

He watches Louis drink his first, knocking it back until it all disappears. Zayn can do that. He tips it into his mouth, at first only tasting the sweetness of the champagne. When it all disappears he tastes the delay of the bitterness, making his entire face scrunch up.

Louis laughs at him, almost doubling over, and in the end it’s all worth it, isn’t it?

The driver opens the door for them and they bustle out, saying their thanks before Zayn takes Louis’ hand and leads him towards the restaurant.

“You’ve really gone all out, haven’t you?” Louis says, his smile evident in his eyes as he playfully bumps into Zayn’s side as they walk.

Zayn shrugs with a grin, “No harm in that, is there? I hear first date’s are a pretty big deal in this human world.”

Louis barks out a laugh and shakes his head fondly, “ _So_ weird.” He says, soft, almost to himself.

They reach the restaurant and are seated straight away. The waitress leads them towards a two-seater table right next to the window that peers out over the street.

Harry was right; this definitely _is_ a fancy place. The whole interior is a mixture between red, gold and brown, making it look entirely royal-like. There’s a candle and a rose in a slender vase on each table, with lights around the room slightly dimmed, making the atmosphere all the more romantic.

Zayn thinks that if anyone were to take someone here on a first date, they’d fall in love instantly.

He pulls out Louis’ chair before he sits down and Louis snorts at the gesture before stifling a laugh into his hand. Zayn feels giddy all over, like he could run a marathon. He’s sure he’ll have to take some kind of painkillersto rid of the pain starting at his cheeks from the all-constant smiling.

“Gotta say,” Louis says, his voice oddly quiet yet fitting for the type of atmosphere. He looks around at the restaurant and then meets Zayn’s eyes, “It’s still a bit weird knowing all these people are looking at you.”

He doesn’t say it possessively, or even with a hint of jealousy. It’s like he feels for Zayn, like he knows how bizarre it must be for him.

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, finding Louis’ hand over the table, “Haven’t gotten used to it yet, to be honest.”

And it’s the truth, he still finds himself needing to move over on the footpath because he can’t just fly over someone or go through him or her, he can be a blockage for somebody, an obstacle. He can leave impressions on others, he can make people laugh, cry. He never really appreciated these small elements of being _somebody_ until it was taken away from him.

“What was it like when you turned?” Louis asks him, now looking out of the window next to them, the moonlight casting a soft shade over Louis’ profile. “Like, I’m so shattered I wasn’t there with you when it happened.” He shakes his head. He licks his lips as he frowns, thinking, then he meets Zayn’s eyes again, looking soft. “Nick told me it was a different process than his. He told me it… hurt? For you?”

Zayn shrugs automatically. It’s an instinctive move, Zayn thinks, to brush off his pain as though it didn’t feel like being struck by lightening. He’s done it ever since he and Louis met.

“I think it was shock more than anything, really.” Zayn lies, “But it only lasted for about thirty seconds, and that was it. Then all the nurses in the room made me leave and it was so weird, like, knowing that they were talking to _me_.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees softly, a small smile showing. He brushes his thumb over the back of Zayn’s hand, “I’m so glad we can do this now, though.”

“Me too.”

A waitress comes over to their table and the two of them look at her apologetically, since neither of them actually even glanced at the menu yet. As she goes to leave, though, Louis stops her.

“Actually, could we have some drinks?”

Thirty minutes later and Louis’ cheeks are flushed, giggling at something Zayn said. His lips are red from licking and biting at them, probably also stained from the red wine. His eyes are slightly glazed over, and he’s also very, evidently drunk.

They’ve already had dinner, seeming as the service is impeccable and the meal servings are little enough to feed one ant alone, and their dessert—some ice-cream with berries—has just arrived.

“Ah, thank you, kind sir!” Louis says, definitely louder than he intended.

The waitress offers him a small, polite smile.

“Sorry,” Zayn tells her, soft enough so Louis doesn’t hear. She doesn’t say anything to that, and walks away without offering them anything else.

“You know what I’d like to do right now?”

Zayn turns his attention back to Louis. He’s licking off the ice cream from his spoon, his tongue flat and wrapped around it. Zayn has to look away for a moment.

“What’s that?” Zayn asks, voice slightly unsteady. Louis’ been winding him up all night ever since he finished his first glass of wine—sliding his hand up Zayn’s thigh underneath the table, talking under his breath about how he’ll repay Zayn with dirty little favors, and looking the way he _is_ as though he’s already been fucked out of his mind.

He can’t catch a break, honestly.

“I’d like to get all of this,” Louis drawls, dipping his finger into the bowl before popping the digit into this mouth, his cheeks hollowing. He pulls it out, completely clean, with all but the whiteness lingering on his lips. “And spread it all over your body.” He continues, looking at Zayn from underneath his eyelashes, pointing at him, “Then, I want to lick it all off, so slowly that it’s almost painful for you—“

“Alright, uh,” Zayn swallows deeply, stopping Louis from continuing. He waves the waitress over, ready for the check. Who knows how far Louis will go if they remain here. Besides, Zayn doesn’t think he could handle anything more in such a public place.  

Louis only smirks at Zayn the entire time Zayn pays and gets up to leave because he knows exactly what he’s doing and all the best ways to get Zayn worked up.

It’s when they’re out on the street again, as soon as they exit the restaurant, that Louis’ attaching his lips to Zayn’s neck.

Zayn breathes in sharply—half from shock, half from pleasure—and he reluctantly stops Louis before they continue walking again. Louis only giggles into his shoulder, then reaches around Zayn’s body to squeeze his butt.

“Jesus, red wine makes you real cheeky, doesn’t it?” Zayn says with a smirk, his own mind slightly dizzy from the tipsiness caused by his own share of champagne and wine.

“Mm,” Louis hums lowly, not letting his hand stray. “I usually fuck on the first date, too. Just so you know.”

And just like that, Louis’ other wandering hand places itself teasingly over Zayn’s crotch. Zayn breathes out a shaky breath as his eyes flutter shut. The warmth and pressure of his hand makes his dick twitch and Louis makes an impressed sound at the back of his throat.

He moves Louis’ hand away and looks at him as sternly as he can manage, only to be met with mischievous eyes looking seductively back at him with a flirtatious bite of his lip.

“Seems like you do, too.” Louis adds, glancing down obviously at Zayn’s situation, before giving Zayn a quick smack on the bum.

Before Zayn can reply—though, to be fair, his reply is stubbornly stuck at the back of his throat, totally baffled by Louis’ sudden display of public affection—Louis’ skipping off happily through the car park towards the limousine that took them here.

All he can do is shake his head with bewilderment and absolute love for the boy in front of him. Two centuries. Two _fucking_ centuries it took for Zayn to find his source of happiness and love of his life. All those years of pain and death and unbearable boredom seem to be all worth it just to have the life he has now.

As he watches Louis, singing at the top of his lungs as he dances around a street lamp, he thinks back to that first time he went to Harry’s house. When Louis was there for a date—a _date_ , it seems so unimaginable now—and when Nick first told Zayn about _soul mates_.

Back then, the term was laughable, it was especially laughable because at the time he was right there, watching his potential ‘soul mate’ being kissed by somebody else’s potential ‘soul mate’. It’s funny to think back to those times, when everything was dangerous and new. Now, everything’s comfortable and although the danger comes in new forms, it’s also safe in a way that he knows he won’t be discarded or _invisible_.

Now, he knows that everything—no matter how bad it might be—happens for a reason. A little bump in the road will get you to where you need to be, or, amiably, where someone else needs to be. Who knew death could have such rewarding consequences?

“Zayn! You coming or what?”

Zayn blinks out of his train of thought, his attention immediately casted onto Louis who’s now leaning up against the limo, grinning wide and noticeably driving the chauffer insane. He keeps trying to undo the tie on the man’s suit and of course, staying professional, has to politely take Louis’ hands away.

Before anyone snaps, Zayn decides to walk over to the two of them, making sure to distract Louis and throw a sincere apology to the driver. He takes both of Louis’ wrists into one of his hands and cups Louis’ pouting face in the other before kissing him softly.

Louis’ frown disappears when they pull apart and is replaced with a glowing grin.

“Zayn,” He says, almost dreamily. He doesn’t follow it up with anything else, as though all he wanted to do was say his name.

“Uh,” The driver says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Are we just going home, or?”

Zayn tears his eyes away from Louis’ to nod at the driver, forgetting the movie. He kisses Louis again once, and then crawls back into the limousine, Louis following on his heels. The door closes, then the electronic sound of the partition rolling up to give them some privacy fills the car.

He feels two fingers starting to dance slowly up his thigh, the heat of Louis’ breath felt against the skin of his neck. Zayn feels warmth cover his entire body, despite the coldness outside. He can feel Louis’ heat, too, radiating off him like light.

“Hey,” Louis whispers, so soft, so intimate. It sends goosebumps down his spine, a chill that almost makes him shudder.

“Hey,” Zayn says, and cups Louis’ face in his hands, pressing their lips together.

Louis crawls onto his lap instantly, shifting as close as possible, chest to chest. He kisses Zayn urgently, like impatience is wearing thin on him and he just wants everything now. He tastes like the sweetness of wine, and smells like the muskiness of his cologne. Zayn wants to drown in it.

He breathes heavily through his nose and tugs on Zayn’s tie to bring him impossibly closer. He’s biting Zayn’s lip and licking it with a sort of determination he’s never seen in him before. It makes Zayn’s head dizzy.

Zayn moves both his hands down Louis’ back to hold his bum, trying to get him closer, too. The touch seems to be a sign for Louis to move, and he starts rotating his hips, grinding down on Zayn’s lap.

“You’re so fucking,” Louis starts to say, breathy and low, but stops mid-sentence when he attempts to undo Zayn’s suit jacket and accidentally pops off a button, watching it fly and bounce off the leather. His eyes widen, then he bites his lip guiltily, “Oops.”

Zayn doesn’t care. Instead, he brings Louis’ lips to his own again, loving how red and wet they look.

Louis’ stopped moving now, so Zayn attempts to swivel his hips upwards a little to get it going again and it does. Louis gets the cue and moves down into him as Zayn moves up. _God_. He wants to fuck him right here on this car seat.

It’s not until Louis lets out a gasping moan when Zayn realizes the driver’s put on the radio.

“Could suck you off right now.” Louis tells him, sucking a love bite into Zayn’s neck.

He can feel his cock fattening up, so impatient and _ready_. And Louis’ sitting right on it, swivelling.

“Know you could,” Zayn agrees, his fingers curling in Louis’ hair, “Filthy.”

Louis bites into Zayn’s neck, making him let out a groan. “I am a _dirty_ boy.”

“Terrible.” Zayn agrees, smiling indecently as he says it. “Might have to punish you, babe.”

It comes out as a joke, as something that’s supposed to make Louis’ head throw back in laughter. It’s supposed to be followed back by something like “ _You wouldn’t dare, Malik_ ,” or “ _You couldn’t even if you tried_.” Instead, Louis freezes. His eyes darken and he swallows harshly, making a noise like a whimper.

Before either of them can say a word, the limousine comes to a halt. Louis and Zayn don’t move for a second or two, until they hear the driver clearing his throat loudly and opening his door.

Louis climbs off Zayn’s lap and immediately covers his crotch, almost embarrassed. Zayn blinks at him and Louis averts his eyes away. Their door opens and the driver waits for them to get out.

Zayn exits first, thanking the driver. He waits for Louis but when Louis exits he walks straight passed him. Zayn frowns in question, and follows him into the building.

When they reach their apartment, Louis doesn’t talk until Zayn shuts the door behind them. Instead, he crowds in on Zayn immediately and presses up against him, rutting his crotch against Zayn’s thigh.

“Talk to me like that again.” Louis says, moving his mouth down to suck at Zayn’s jaw.

Zayn, reasonably, can’t think. He doesn’t know how he was talking, his mind just a white, blurry haze.

“ _Zayn_ ,” Louis tugs at Zayn’s collar, pleadingly. His voice sounds so delicate, whining. He looks him in the eye, tilts his head, then, “Please?”

“Shit.” Zayn breathes, taking in the sight of Louis, so suddenly submissive and small. That thought alone makes Zayn register what Louis wants.

He smirks his reply, making sure his voice is deeper and slightly devilish, “You liked that, did you?”

He watches as Louis stares at him, his pupils wide, his skin almost golden underneath the apartment’s lighting. 

Louis swallows harsh again, nodding. He glances down between them.

“Are you gonna do everything I say, then?” Zayn says, placing his hands on Louis’ hips, forcing him closer. Zayn grins at Louis’ soft gasp that follows. “You gonna obey me, Lou?

Louis’ head picks up, his eyes darkening, selfishly scanning Zayn up and down, hunger in his eyes, before nodding his head once.

He advances on Zayn, pressing his chest against him, his hand reaching down to Zayn’s dick, pressing the palm of his heel down onto it. Zayn hisses, his hands on Louis’ hips tightening.

“Clothes off.” Zayn tells him. “Now.” 

Louis’ quick to act, stepping back and taking off his shirt and jeans in what has to be record time. Zayn undresses easier, his clothes a little looser than Louis’, and eventually they stand there, both with nothing on but their underwear. 

Louis scans Zayn again, subconsciously biting his lip. 

“Leave the tie on?” He says, almost like a beg, “Looks good on you.” 

Zayn smirks, trailing his finger gently down the line of Louis’ jaw. 

“Get it for me.” He orders, surprisingly low and demanding. 

The expression on Louis’ face is readable, the way his eyes widen, the still of his breath. He watches the way Louis’ Adam’s apple rises and falls in his throat as he swallows. 

He doesn’t argue, or talk back, either, and Zayn’s almost too proud of himself. He likes where this is going. 

It’s unsure to know whether it’s the alcohol or the arousal or the fact that Louis’ so unashamed at how much he likes it, that makes Zayn play along.

Louis steps aside and bends down to pick up the tie off the floor. He hands it to Zayn, as though he’s suddenly scared of putting it on himself, and Zayn snatches it from him without a thank you, without a smile. Tonight, Zayn decides, they’re fucking like strangers.

Zayn puts on the tie around his neck, leaving it loose. He steps closer to Louis and places a hand on the small of his back before pulling him closer, hearing the way Louis’ breath is startled out of him. 

“Get the lube, babe, will you?” Zayn says, hot in Louis’ ear. 

Louis gulps loudly and nods obediently. Zayn grins and lets his hand slip underneath Louis’ underwear, giving his arse a good smack before squeezing it. 

“Holy shit.” Louis whines under his breath. He stays close to Zayn and tries to wrap a hand around himself, desperate, before Zayn slaps it away. 

“Don’t.” Zayn tells him, firmer than he’s ever been. His eyes flicker over to the bedroom. “Lube.” 

Louis shudders against him, “Fuck, Zayn,” He says, pleading, “You’re so good at this. You’re gonna make me come right now.” 

Zayn presses a kiss to Louis’ now sweaty collarbone, “Only when I say you can, yeah, babe?” 

“ _God_ ,” Louis moans, almost collapsing from weakness, overcome by drunkenness and arousal. Zayn holds him up, and then spins him around towards the bedroom. Louis seems to regain himself before heading off towards the direction Zayn told him to. 

Shit, if Zayn knew being authoritative with Louis during sex got him this worked up then he would’ve started doing it a long time ago. 

He follows Louis into the bedroom, discovering quickly he won’t be able to be left alone for much longer. He’s sure a few strokes of his cock will have him coming already. 

He enters the bedroom and finds Louis facing towards the set of drawers, the small top one opened with his hand around the lube. He’s naked now, bare arse now visible, teasing. 

Zayn practically tears off his boxers, too, and walks up behind Louis, hands immediately groping his arse hard, possibly leaving a mark. 

“Your bum is actually perfect,” He mumbles, and Louis huffs out a breath of nervous laughter, “But did I tell you to get naked?”

Louis moves forward at the feeling, shutting the drawer with his chest, his grip on the lube hardening. He wiggles his hips, consciously or not, and he brushes up against Zayn’s dick, making him inexplicitly impatient. 

“No,” He says, faking guilt. He arches his back again, looking over his shoulder at Zayn in faux innocence, silently begging for it. 

Zayn smacks Louis’ arse softly, “You’re asking for it now, aren’t you?” He smirks at the way Louis’ pupils almost immediately go dark with want. Zayn bites Louis’ earlobe slightly, then starts to whisper into his ear. “Might just take it slow, make you take my fingers for hours until you’re whining for my cock inside of you, yeah? And then, when I’m finally deep in your arse, I’ll pin you down so you can’t move, and go even slower, get you absolutely begging me to just fuck you harder, faster, anything.” He presses a wet kiss on the skin behind his ear. “Do you want that, babe?” 

He hears Louis let out a desperate whine, pushing his hips back. 

“I asked you a question,” Zayn says again, squeezing Louis’ arse tight enough that Louis lets out a gasp of air. He’s shocking himself, really. Something’s come over him and he doesn’t want to stop. 

“Please, Zayn,” Louis begs, “I want you so… _ugh_ , so fucking bad.” 

Zayn leers, reaching for the lube with his free hand and popping it open. He slicks up three of his fingers as Louis tries to cheat and touch himself when he thinks Zayn isn’t watching. 

“Bed.” Zayn growls, whacking Louis’ hand away. “So I can see you.”

Louis obeys wordlessly, crawling onto the bed in a seductive way, arching his back so his bum sticks up and curves beautifully. Zayn’s one step behind immediately, crowding in around Louis as he lies on his stomach. Zayn warms up his fingers, Louis watching over his shoulder lusciously. He moves his fingers down to Louis’ arse, teasing them around his hole. He’s as desperate as Louis but he won’t admit it. He presses one of his fingers in ever so slightly before sliding it back out again, and Louis all but growls in annoyance, impatience.

“Ask me for it.” 

“I need your fingers, Zayn, please,” Louis huffs without hesitation, sliding his knees down to grind his hips down desperately against the mattress, only to have Zayn hold his hips with his un-slicked hand and pull him back up to his knees.

“None of that, babe,” Zayn orders, slipping his middle finger inside of Louis suddenly, curling it against his spot with practiced ease, making Louis jerk in his grip and whine softly. He’s gone strangely quiet, not his usual loudness. Zayn knows it’s because of the role-play, knows that Louis knows better than to scream without permission. “If you’re good, I’ll be nice,” Zayn tells him as he curls his finger inside him again,

“ _Fuck_.” Louis says, still soft. 

“Are you gonna be good for me, Louis?” 

“Yes, Zay—”

He breaks off when Zayn slips in a second finger, fucking them inside of him slowly, causing Louis to moan against the pillow he’s burying his face in. Zayn builds up his force, fucking his fingers straight into the spot that has Louis whining into the pillow, his fingers clenching into the sheets desperately. 

“Please,” He begs, louder, desperate, pressing his arse back against Zayn’s fingers. 

Zayn knows that Louis could get off like this, just from two of Zayn’s fingers pressing inside of him without anyone touching his cock. It’s one of his favourite sights, to see Louis desperate and writhing over just Zayn’s fingers. Yet such a sight has no comparison to the way Louis gets desperate for Zayn’s cock. Which is why he stops, pulls his fingers out of his boyfriend and leaves him to let out a cry of want, desperately pressing his arse back against thin air. He’s louder now, like his arousal’s getting the better of him, just so eager to be fucked already, so eager to come. 

He looks back over his shoulder at Zayn, his face red and looking thoroughly fucked out already, “Zayn, please… need you,” He whimpers, curving his arse up as much as he can, “Wanna come Zayn, _please._ Fuck me.” 

Zayn relishes in the sight. Louis presenting himself, pleading to be fucked and not coming unless Zayn tells him to. He’s afraid he won’t last, that Louis will keep whining and moaning his name and that’d be it, that’d tip him over the edge. 

Before it happens though, he coats his cock with the lube and presses it between Louis’ cheeks, rubbing it along the crack of his arse and pressing it teasingly against his hole.

“You’re beautiful like this,” He murmurs, and he’s sure Louis desperately wants to leap up and hit him in the face to get on with it, but instead, he moans brokenly, sound muffled by the pillow. “Turn your head,” Zayn tells him, “Wanna hear you.”

Louis turns his head so his cheek is pressed against the pillow, the other half flushed and radiant, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, breathing harshly. Zayn presses into him more, and watches at how Louis grasps onto the sheets, desperate to get a hand on himself but knows he can’t. When Zayn pulls out slowly, Louis immediately gasps a sigh, his fingers loosening in the sheets he was previously grabbing. 

Zayn’s hands fly to Louis’ hips, grabbing them tightly as he starts to thrust inside him, angled thrusts that he had practiced over the past year of learning every little part of Louis’ body. He sees the sweat falling down Louis’ gorgeous back, sees the hair sticking to his forehead, watches at how Louis’ mouth shapes when he groans out Zayn’s name. 

It doesn’t take him long to hit that spot inside of Louis with his cock, causing Louis to fist the sheets again and cry out, pressing his hips back against Zayn hard. Zayn moans, just looking at Louis beneath him, his arse jumping with each of Zayn’s thrusts against him, the feeling of him around his cock and his often-loud noises coming out of his pretty little mouth. He pulls Louis back against each of his thrusts, knowing that he’s continuously hitting that spot by the way Louis is reacting—his thighs are shaking, his noises are growing louder each time Zayn moves into him, and he’s all but tearing the bedding with his fingers. 

One of Zayn’s hands works its way into Louis’ hair, pulling it a little too roughly just for something to grab on to, and he can hear the effect it has on Louis, letting out a high pitched whine and working himself back against Zayn’s cock harder and faster, growing more desperate for release by the second. 

“N—need, _fuck_. Need to come, Zayn,” He says, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence, “Please, let me come.” 

Zayn groans, thrusting as hard as he can against Louis’ spot, just to hear him cry out in desperation, the hand on his thigh still gripping him tightly, “Yeah, Louis. Come.” He grits out, holding back his own release so Louis can reach his. 

Louis reaches one of his hands down to jerk his cock, and not two pulls later, before Zayn can even think of stopping him, he’s coming with a cry of Zayn’s name, clenching so tightly that Zayn can see stars. Louis’ whole body seems to go spineless after that, so incredibly weak and fucked out. 

Zayn slides his hand out of Louis’ hair to grab his shoulder instead, letting out a harsh breath as he gets himself off, his eyes squeezing shut as he lets the feeling wash over him, vision turning white.

*

It’s when Louis’ back to work—when he’s completely, one hundred per cent well again—that Zayn picks up the snow globe beside Louis’ bed.

He still catches Louis looking at it sometimes, especially after they visited the orphanage recently. Zayn holds it in his hands and inspects the bottom of it, the non-glass part, and that it screws off from the globe. He breathes a sigh of relief; this was a sole part of his plan that relied only on hope. He should’ve probably tried to organize a couple of plans beforehand but honestly he’s been too occupied with Louis and his every need.

There are two metal nails underneath the solid bit that unscrews and Zayn runs his finger over them. 

It’s not about six minutes later—when Zayn unscrews them after finding the screwdriver in Louis’ pile of stuff that he must have considered ‘tools’—when he discovers the two nails were holding down a lid. 

He figures Louis didn’t know there was a compartment hidden there, either, since it’s empty. Zayn finds himself grinning, the empty space perfect for the size of item he wants to put in there. He places the object in the compartment and screws the lid back on top of it, then puts the globe back onto Louis’ bedside table. 

It feels secretive, obtrusive, kind of. But maybe that’s only the returning feelings that come with the memory of last time, when he had to fiddle with Louis’ snow globe for this long. When the glass was broken and he had to spend a long time fixing it up again. 

This time, though, it’s for a completely different reason.

* 

Zayn feels a rush of excitement when he sees Louis walk out of the school at the end of the day. He doesn’t see Zayn at first, fixing up his backpack straps on his shoulders and looking down at the ground before he lifts his head up, flicking his overgrown fringe as he does so. 

He locks eyes with Zayn and smiles, somewhat suspiciously. His eyebrows pull together as he meets up with him, then nudges his hip with Zayn’s.

“Why’re you so giddy for?” Louis asks him, beginning to walk home. 

“Nothing special,” Zayn lies, sort of wishing he could keep his smile down, “Just happy to see my lovely boy.” 

He puts an arm around Louis’ waist and leans in to kiss his cheek as Louis laughs softly. 

“Okay, you’re full of shit, but I’ll take it.” Louis says, leaning into Zayn’s touch. 

The sky’s cloudy, a few dark clouds in amongst the grey. It’ll probably rain tomorrow, if not tonight. He always hates walking to Louis’ work when it’s raining. When he was a ghost, it didn’t matter because Zayn would cover Louis as they flew so he wouldn’t become cold or wet. The only thing they have now is an umbrella that keeps breaking.

“How was it?” Zayn asks him. He can sense the building pressure of stress in Louis’ body. He has that sort of demeanor about him today. 

Louis lets out a sigh, his hand running through his hair. “The kid’s exams are coming up and suddenly everyone has questions and wants to meet up every second of the day.” He explains, shrugs, “Think their stress is, like, coming off on me.” 

Zayn hums softly, then reaches down to grab a hold of Louis’ hand. They link their fingers together and they walk with each step in sync with each other. There’s a bubbling feeling inside of Zayn, ready to burst with nerves, excitement, anticipation. He wants to skip home, pick Louis up and run to their apartment. 

Instead, though, he walks like they do every day. Because it’s just a normal day to Louis.

“How was yours?” Louis asks Zayn, meeting his eyes and smiling. 

Zayn nods, “Wasn’t too bad.” He says, “Just met up with Nick again and stayed at Harry’s for a bit.” He lies.

“How is he?” 

They continue their conversation until they reach the lobby of the apartment building and they’re silent in the new elevator they’ve brought in recently. It’s not until Louis’ done his usual routine of kicking off his shoes and taking off his jacket, putting the kettle on and collapsing on the couch, when Zayn slips into their bedroom. 

He picks up the snow globe and bites back his grin when he steps out into the main room again, shaking the globe so it rattles a little. 

“Hey, I forgot to mention it but, uh,” Zayn says, sitting down next to Louis, shaking the globe again, “I think this is broken?” 

Louis scoffs, “Did you break it again?” 

He says it with a smile and Zayn lets out a laugh. Louis takes the globe from Zayn’s hand and shakes it himself, hearing the same rattle. 

“Sounds like it’s coming from underneath or something,” He says, eyebrows pulling together as he shakes it again next to his ear. He looks at it and finds the nails. “Did you wanna get a screwdriver? Think there might be something loose.” 

Zayn wants to just say the words, just wants the moment to happen quickly but also wants it to last long in his memory. He looks at Louis now, all oblivious and usual. Zayn almost wants to laugh at the suspense that only he’s feeling. 

“Where’s that?” Zayn asks, playing dumb. 

“Oh, uh, in the cupboard, like above the kettle.” Louis tells him, not meeting his eye, too transfixed on the ‘broken’ object in his hand.

Zayn almost jogs to the cupboard, and locates the screwdriver instantly. He returns back to the couch, practically throwing himself onto it, and hands the tool over to Louis. 

Louis looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly at Zayn’s odd behavior, but he doesn’t say anything. He takes the screwdriver and starts to loosen the nails. 

Zayn bites his bottom lip, watching expectantly. 

When Louis lifts up the lid of the small compartment, his face is priceless. 

His eyes widen immediately, his entire face shaped into shock first and then pure happiness. He looks up at Zayn, his mouth agape, and Zayn looks back at him with a toothy smile. 

“Fucking hell, Zayn,” Louis breathes, shaking his head slowly, “You’ve outdone yourself.” 

He picks up the engagement ring from the snow globe and holds it between his fingers, admiring the small diamond in it. If Zayn didn’t know better, Louis looks a bit emotional.

“D’you want me to put it on you?” Zayn offers, scooting closer. 

Louis nods quickly, “Fuck yeah.” 

Zayn takes the ring and Louis’ hand, then slips it onto his designated finger. Louis holds his hand out so the two of them can look at it. It looks incredible. 

Louis leaps on him without warning, throwing them both back on the couch. Zayn’s hands instantly grab onto Louis’ hips, steadying him, his face surely about to be split into two if he keeps smiling like he is. 

“You cheeky cockhead,” Louis says, pressing a lingering kiss onto Zayn’s lips, “Telling me it’s broken and shit.” 

“You’re not the only one who can act.” Zayn says, throwing him a wink.

Louis rolls his eyes, and then attaches himself to Zayn’s lips again. In the kitchen, the kettle starts to boil, but none of them make a move to stop.

* 

“How’re you feeling?” Louis asks him, his hand running over Zayn’s lower back soothingly. 

“A little nervous, actually.” Zayn replies with a shy laugh. 

“Don’t be,” Louis tells him, bumping their hips together lightly. “Think about it, you’ve seen these people constantly and you know how they are. They’ve just never seen you.” 

They’re out the front of the school, ready to head into Louis’ office and the rest of the teacher’s staff room. It had been solely Louis’ idea, ready to show off the ring to whomever he knows. 

He had rung everyone he knew soon after making love to Zayn on the couch, unable to contain it any longer. 

Zayn had to come along today because part of the excitement of Zayn becoming human is so Louis can show him off, apparently.

They enter through the two main doors, already catching the eyes of some of the students as they walk passed. Louis has a hold of Zayn’s hand now, leading him throughout the school. Zayn knows his way top to bottom, but it’s like it’s a whole new area, now that everyone he sees is noticing him. 

First stop is the staff room, and Louis enters proudly, obviously loving the way his co-workers eye the two of them curiously.

Someone approaches them and when Zayn turns to her he recognizes her from a few meetings Louis’ had to attend. She’s a loud woman, very opinionated and cheerful. Zayn remembers once when he was dozing off during Louis’ meeting and this woman laughed, it frightened Zayn so much he almost let out a shout. 

“Louis! Good morning!” She greets, smile wide on her face. 

“Hey, Gretel, how’re you?” Louis replies. He doesn’t give her time to answer, though, before widening his grin and gesturing beside him. “This is Zayn, my fiancée.” 

The label makes Zayn feel blissful. He can tell it does the same to Louis because his eyes brighten. He’s been saying it around the apartment, repeating words like _fiancée_ and making a show of his ring. Sometimes when Louis does it, it has Zayn in hysterics. 

Gretel’s eyes widen, then her hands clasp together excitedly. She almost turns into a thirteen-year-old, shrieking and making little sounds when she inspects the ring. Zayn starts to feel less nervous and more smug about the situation.

Eventually, all the women in the staff room crowd around him and Louis, cooing at the ring and asking a heap of questions—some that make Zayn a little flustered—and don’t leave until the bell to signal the first class goes off.

Louis doesn’t have any classes today, but decided to come to work since exams are near and he knows his students need a little extra help. 

“I sort of want to show Anne… Is that weird?” Louis says once the staff room is quiet.

Anne, the woman who practically raised Louis at the orphanage. Zayn shakes his head. 

“Nah, not at all.” Zayn tells him. “Let’s visit her soon.”

Louis smiles, nods, then lifts up to kiss Zayn’s mouth.

“Louis,” A voice in the room says. Louis and Zayn both turn to it, facing Liam. “Hey.”

Zayn instinctively tightens his hold on Louis’ hand. Louis hesitates for a few seconds, then catches himself.

“Hey, Liam.” He says, “This is Zayn, my—“

“Fiancée,” Liam finishes for him, “I, uh, I heard.”

“Right.” Louis offers him a small smile.

Zayn looks at Liam, who’s looking at Louis. He feels for Liam, he truly does, for someone who fell for Louis and is now face-to-face with his partner that’s not him has got to be difficult.

“So, you’re the famous Zayn, then?” Liam says, giving him a genuine smile, his hand raised.

Zayn shakes it and returns a smile of his own, “Guess I am. Nice to meet you, Liam.”

It’s peaceful, their conversation. Liam has seemed to accept it and is sincerely pleased for the both of them. Zayn admires him, how, when Zayn was in Liam’s shoes, he wouldn’t have it. He’d scream and cry along with the pain that came, and grew a sort of hatred towards the man. Now, he’s completely re-viewed Liam, and maybe, if the time came, he could do the same with Aiden.

“You’re coming to the show, then?” Louis asks Liam, visibly relaxed, hand still in Zayn’s 

“’Course.” Liam tells him, “Wouldn’t miss it, seems like the students are working hard on it. And you, of course.”

“Yeah, well.” Louis shrugs, a small flush reaching his cheeks.

Liam throws them both a smile and claps his hands together once, “Think I should be off, then. I’ll see you around, then, yeah?”

Louis and Zayn say their goodbyes to Liam, and when he leaves, Louis lets out a small sigh of relief.

*

The play runs smoothly. Louis presented it at the start, with a beaming smile on his face the entire time. Zayn sat at the very front, next to Eleanor and Nick, with Harry and Niall in the row, too. They were all, by far, the loudest clappers and hooters in the audience. 

Zayn felt proud, not only because of Louis, but also towards the students. They didn’t know Zayn was there, watching them grow, so he doesn’t tell them to an extent of how well they all did, but they truly all did extremely well.

The Romeo and Juliet notion made him think about himself and Louis. That if Louis had died in that hospital, then Zayn would not have thought twice about killing himself, too. He understands the pressure, the struggle, of loving someone so much that nothing else in this cruel world matters.

After the show, the six of them all go out for dinner. They didn’t decide on anything special, just a little diner down the road that does great potato fries. They’re sitting in one booth, taking up the whole table. It’s a little squashed, being in between Louis and Niall, but the coldness he’d otherwise feel if he didn’t have the body heat is worse than this. He likes being in amongst it all.

“Can’t believe you proposed before I did.” Nick says, pinching Zayn’s knee underneath the table.

Zayn smiles at him, “Are you gonna do it soon?”

Nick looks over at Harry, who’s trying to catch the Skittles Louis’ throwing into his mouth. He’s failing terribly.

“Yeah, pretty soon, I reckon.” Nick says, still looking at Harry, fondly.

They’re probably the loudest table in the whole diner. Louis’ telling a story with such excitement and emphasis, his hands gesturing everything, facial expressions almost animated-looking and his voice loud. And every time Harry and Niall laugh, Zayn’s sure it echoes throughout the entire place.

There’s a moment when Louis and Zayn, Harry and Nick, start to get lost in their own world’s, talking softly to one another, giggling and staring, as though in their own bubble. It doesn’t last long, though, since Niall advances on Eleanor loudly, and the laugh that comes out of her startles the four of them, and it continues like before.

Zayn’s content, he decides. Although he lost his family all those years ago, it’s as though he’s found one, created one and has somewhere he fits again. He’s so unbelievably glad and satisfied that it’s almost frightening, unbecoming.

Maybe Zayn can get his own job—he’s not sure what he’d do, hasn’t really given it much thought—and maybe he and Louis can move closer to Doncaster, buy a car so he can travel to the school easily, and also to drive down to the orphanage regularly.

The future excites him so much, like he’s on a steady path and anything that comes will be uncomplicated, smooth. He knows that’s not true, in the back of his mind, he knows he has to be aware of dead-end’s and rocky roads. But he squeezes Louis’ hands and watches at how he turns to him, all lovely and strong, and Zayn knows that whatever happens, they’ll do it together.

And God damn, if that isn’t the best anniversary present he could ever ask for.

 

 ***

 

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, thank you for taking your time to read this (i know the reputation of sequels aren’t the best, so if you stuck by this then you deserve a thank you!) secondly, kudos & comments are most appreciated! i always love to see your interpretations of things/what parts you enjoyed the most :). thirdly, i’m well aware the one’s that asked for a sequel were expecting the majority of it to be zayn & louis living life as a human couple. although, as this was going through my mind, i tried to think up different scenarios of what could happen/how the story would flow/what could work best & ultimately what i decided on is the transition of ghost to human, as i wanted to incorporate & focus more on the gaining of zayn's life & the enhancement of louis’, instead of a 40k fic based solely on their lives as boring humans (*˘︶˘*). 
> 
> so, in saying that, i hope i didn’t disappoint anybody at all & that you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it :). & lastly, if you wish to contact me privately, feel free to message me on tumblr: louiswmalik. 
> 
> big love to you all xx


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